


Self Isolation with Bang Chan at My House

by BiancaRowena



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: COVID-19, Coronavirus, Drama, F/M, Friendship, Love, Quarantined Together, Romance, Slow Burn, Stray kidz - Freeform, bang chan - Freeform, home isolation, stray kids - Freeform, stray kids alternate universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:07:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 39,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23434402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiancaRowena/pseuds/BiancaRowena
Summary: Eden's city is in Lockdown due to a COVID-19 outbreak in her community.When a boy (Bang Chan/ Chris) comes to live with her and her mom, because his family died of COVID-19 and he has nowhere to go, Eden is furious.But will love conquer even the deadliest of Pandemics?Stray Kids AU
Relationships: Bang Chan/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter One

'Willing to trade 4-cheese pasta sauce for regular pasta sauce'

I post the message to the group chat and then throw my phone onto the bed. How embarrassing, but my mom needs it. In our scramble to get food last week, my mom took the last two cans of pasta sauce left on the shelves, which happen to have cheese in them, and I'm lactose intolerant.

I leave my phone on the bed and go to my window. The sun is going down. My chest gets tighter. I never cared whether the sun was up or down before, but lately whenever the sun goes down I begin to panic. It's as though I'm only safe when the sun is up.

My phone buzzes and I look at my bed. It's made all neat and tidy, my teddybears huddled together at the foot of the bed, nestled in each others' arms. Making my bed is one of the few things I can control now, so I do it and it makes me feel a bit better in the mornings. COVID-19 has ruined everything, it cancelled our school's spring musical, after we'd practiced for months; it took away my friends and it made my mom lose her job.

The sound of the doorbell ringing makes me jump. I turn towards my door, frozen in place. It's too late at night to be the grocery drop off. My chest tightens. The sound of shuffling from downstairs and the front door opening get me moving.

Even my grandma, who is the toughest person in the world, fled to her cabin in the mountains already. And it couldn't be my Aunt. She works at the hospital and is exposed to COVID-19 cases all day, and she still has to keep going to work. She doesn't visit us, for obvious reasons, and also because she works day shifts and night shifts, one after the other, overnights and double shifts.

No one comes over. Ever. That's why we're safe at home. That's why my mom lost her job, to keep us safe. As long as we don't go anywhere or have anyone over, we're safe.

I head down the stairs slowly, still in my pyjamas and fuzzy socks. I go just far enough to see the front door from around the corner, but I stay out of sight. My mom is saying something in Korean that I don't understand. Why didn't I ever learn Korean? My friend who watches K-Drama's knows more Korean than I do, and she's not even Korean!

A low voice answers from outside and my breath catches. Just by the sound of his voice, I know the person standing outside is attractive. He steps in, shiny black shoes and shiny black pants, a crisp white blouse and bleach blonde hair, with a tinge of pink, unless that's the sunset outside playing tricks on my eyes. I draw back into the shadows, but it's too late, he's already seen me. He looks directly at me, as though he knew I'd be there, at the top of the stairs.

My mom steps aside to let him in. What is happening here? Why is she letting someone into the house? She knows how dangerous that is.

His movements are perfect, like a guy with a great command of his body. The black leather pants reflect the fading light from outside as he moves, then mom shuts the door and his hair and blouse seem to glow in the dim light of the room. He glances up the stairs again, a sexy smirk on his lips. Can he see me? Or does he just think it's funny that I'm here but I'm too chicken to come downstairs?

Maybe he's just here to fix something important in the house, like the furnace, so the house won't blow up. He could be one of mom's book club friends' sons, come to lend a hand. It's the only acceptable explanation I can think of. Our city is on lockdown, by penalty of big fines and jail time! We can't just invite people over!

The blond Korean boy shifts his backpack on his shoulder, one that is stuffed full. Surely he isn't here to stay. My mom is a huge germaphobe, she'd never allow it.

Mom continues talking fast in Korean and the boy nods, listening intently as he removes his shoes. I look away. I can't look at him for too long. It does something to my insides that I can't figure out, like my body is trying to tell me he's dangerous, and not because of COVID-19.

Mom and the boy head downstairs to the newly renovated basement, which was finished only days before COVID came to our city. The basement is all I have left of anything that could resemble going out on the weekends; my playstation, the piano, the large T.V. and the comfy couches. Even the string of Christmas lights I put up for a more festive atmosphere. It's MY basement! Newly carpeted and uncluttered, not like my room or the craft room upstairs which are both a big mess.

I sneak further down the stairs and slowly peek my head around the corner to the stairwell that leads down to the basement. I pick up on a few keywords in the conversation, like 'bedroom' and 'thank you' in Korean, but that's it.

There is one bedroom down there, the guest room for when family comes to visit, but it has nothing in it, just a bed, which doesn't even have sheets... I gasp. Mom put sheets on it yesterday! And she even took down a pillow! Why didn't this register as strange to me at the time?

The conversation downstairs ends and a shadow appears around the corner. I hide again, but it's just my mom coming up the stairs, alone.

"Mom!" I hiss at her.

She startles and jumps back in fear. I feel bad and soften my tone. "Who is that? Why is he here?"

"He's going to live here," Mom says, matter-of-factly. She avoids eye contact with me and goes straight to the kitchen, then begins unloading the dishwasher.

"What?" I follow after her. "Since when? Live here?" Had I heard right?

"Yes." Mom sticks a cup into a cupboard and starts unnecessarily rearranging all the mugs.

I'm speechless. I have too many questions and they're all clogged in my brain on their way trying to rush out.

Mom sighs and turns to look at me. "He has nowhere to go, his family is dead."

I'm almost too afraid to ask. "From what?"

"What do you think, from what?" Mom's accent suddenly becomes stronger, which means she's mad.

"His entire family died of the Corona Virus?" I whisper. "And he's staying here?"

"He lived with his grandmother only. He's all alone now. Don't worry, he did the fourteen day isolation already and they tested him too, twice. He doesn't have it."

My shoulders relax, but I'm still not happy about any of it.

"His backpack, or clothes, they could still have the virus on-"

"We need the money, Eden," Mom snaps.

"What money?"

"Stop this at once," she whispers. Her gaze moves past my shoulder and I turn to see that the boy has come up from the basement. I'm struck by his pure sex-appeal. It almost hurts to look at him.

I grab the corner of the counter to steady myself. I'm angry at him and attracted to him at the same time, something I've never felt before.

Mom smiles at him but her eyes look strained. "Chan, meet my daughter, Eden." She grabs a kitchen towel and dries her hands, even though there seems to be no need for it. Is she nervous about this arrangement too? Is she worried about COVID, despite this Chan boy having tested negative?

I glance at him again, the boy who has disrupted our already upended lives. I suppose it's too late now. He's already here, with all his germs and devastating beauty.

He doesn't smile at me and somehow that makes me feel better. I don't want to have to pretend that either of us is happy with this. And the impact of his smile would likely knock me off my feet. My eyes drop to his black leather pants, then I quickly look away, annoyed with myself. Why does he has to wear such distracting clothes? In the middle of a Pandemic. Everyone is terrified and wearing pyjamas all day, and he has to come to my house in black leather pants? I glance down at my pyjama bottoms and suddenly remember what I'm wearing.

"I have to go!" I say, then run up the stairs.

"Go where?" Mom calls after me. "There's nowhere to go!"

She's right. There's no escaping the attractive boy downstairs. I can still feel his presence downstairs, after I'm in my room with the door shut. My body is shaking. This isn't good. But I don't care if I'm being rude to our 'guest,' by running away. I can't do this. I can't live with a painfully attractive boy in my basement.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \------------
> 
> "Hi."
> 
> The voice makes me jump way too high and my foot slips on the edge of a step, from walking on my too-long pyjama bottoms. I squeal as I grab for the banister. Chan gets up off the couch where he was sitting in the living room area, apparently on his phone, and hurries over as though to catch me.
> 
> "I'm fine!" I say a little too loudly, making him stop at the bottom of the stairs. He's not wearing a shirt, just a pair of well-fitted pyjama bottoms. The last thing I need right now is for him to touch me, or I really will collapse down the stairs.
> 
> \------------

'I'm a hostage in my own home!' I write to the group chat.

We've been talking about Chan for hours. It's the most interesting thing that has happened to any of us on house arrest. At least it's kept me from thinking about the lack of sunlight outside.

'Just call the police or something, it goes against the COVID lockdown rules'

'No, it's fine,' I quickly respond, thinking of what my mom said about how we need the money. The last thing we need is a big fine. 'We already approved it with the police and everything,' I lie. 'They actually arranged it. He had nowhere to go.'

'Send a picture!' Charlotte says and I suddenly feel oddly protective of him. There's no way I'm sending a picture. Charlotte will find a way to friend him on social media and will be dating him by the end of the week, even if it's just long distance over the phone

'He's dyed his hair blonde,' I write.

'OMGOSH and you say he's Korean?' Amber writes. She's the K-Drama fanatic.

'I think so.' I remember the curl of his lips and the healthy, strong look of his build. He might be some other ethnicity too, like half Korean.

Suddenly my door opens and my mom pokes her head in the door.

"Why are you still up?" She croaks. I look at the time on my phone, it's after midnight. She must have gone to bed and just woken to use the washroom.

"Sorry," I say.

"You have school tomorrow. Go to bed!" with that she shuts my door and a stack of papers on my desk fall onto the floor.

'I have to go,' I type out. 'See you guys tomorrow.'

I get out of bed to plug in my phone. At least I don't have to worry too much about my appearance for online video chat school, I just have to make sure my hair looks okay. The camera doesn't really pick up details like my makeup, unless someone opens my video chat window on its own. I hope no one does that.

I plug in my phone and head to my door. I stop when my hand reaches the door handle. I can't go downstairs to get water, I've been avoiding downstairs this whole time. I hate feeling like a captive in my own home, but I don't want to run into Chan.

I take a deep breath and open the door. It's after midnight, he's probably in bed. It's not like he's not going to be sitting in the kitchen in the dark or something. The idea makes me giggle.

I head down the upstairs hallway then to the stairs, still giggling.

The lights are on downstairs.

I stop.

No, I need water. I can't be afraid of going into the kitchen. This is MY house and this Chan boy has already taken my precious basement away from me.

I lift my chin and head down, hoping that he will see me in my unicorn pjs and decide that I'm too nerdy and drab to associate with. Maybe we can create a mutual understanding, of ignoring each other or-

"Hi."

The voice makes me jump way too high and my foot slips on the edge of a step, from walking on my too-long pyjama bottoms. I squeal as I grab for the banister. Chan gets up off the couch where he was sitting in the living room area, apparently on his phone, and hurries over as though to catch me.

"I'm fine!" I say a little too loudly, making him stop at the bottom of the stairs. He's not wearing a shirt, just a pair of well-fitted pyjama bottoms. The last thing I need right now is for him to touch me, or I really will collapse down the stairs.

His hair hangs in his eyes as he looks at me, as though trying to read my expression. I'm a few steps higher than him on the stairs, but he's still too close. I now have a better view of his toned body, and a tingling feeling crawls over my body, like when my leg falls asleep. He definitely works out or does some kind of sport.

"Are you Korean?" I blurt out, then I cringe inwardly. Of course he is, he was talking Korean with my mom.

"This isn't my natural hair colour," he said, his lips curling up in a grin.

"I know... " I feel disoriented. "It's your accent... excuse me." I rush past him to the kitchen island and turn on the water. I don't even have a cup in my hand yet, but I'm turning on the water. I need to put my head under the tap and run cold water over my face. But I don't. I avoid looking at Chan and go get a glass from the cupboard.

After filling the glass I look up to see that he is standing in the doorway of the pantry, likely looking for a snack.

Just as I turn off the water my stomach lets out a loud growl.

I'm frozen with embarrassment and Chan turns to look at me, smiling. "You're hungry too'r?" he says in his Australian accent.

I shake my head no, then start drinking the water in my hand so I don't have to speak.

"Australian," he says. I choke on my water. Did he just read my mind?

"You asked me earlier if I was Korean," he continues. "I am, but I'm also half Australian."

I nod my head while still drinking, spilling water on my shirt like a dork.

"You're Korean?" Chan asks.

I keep nodding.

"Were you born here? In Canada?"

I keep nodding.

Chan's grin widens and I quickly put the glass down.

"Thirsty too," he says, "as well as hungry."

I swallow hard. I am thirsty, but not for water.

"I have to go," I say.

"Again?"

"I.. have a group chat."

"Ah," he says knowingly. "That's why I'm up too'r." The way he says 'too,' with his accent, makes something inside my tummy flutter. "Chatting with some of my friends back home."

The word 'home,' on his lips, also makes my stomach flutter. When did I start finding Australian accents sexy?

"You're messaging them now?" I ask like an idiot. Of course he's not talking to them right now, his phone is on the couch.

He tilts his head slightly to the side, his eyes shining. "In a few minutes. I still have time."

Time? Time for what?

I shake my head. "No, I'm not, I don't need to talk... I'm, you know, cuz the chat and." I clear my throat. "I have to go."

He nods.

I quickly put more water in my glass, so I won't have to come down again later for more water. Then I hurry away, splashing water on the floor.

"Eden," Chan calls after me.

"Ya?" I ask, gripping the stairway handrail tight, and not turning around. I can't turn around. My other hand is already shaking, holding the glass, I can't risk another look at his beautiful body. I'll spill water everywhere.

"You can call me Chris."

"Okay," I say, then run up the stairs.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \----------
> 
> "I'm also going to the store," my mom says.  
> I stop. "What?"  
> "I need to go get some things."  
> "What things? From where?"  
> My mom shuts the dishwasher door with a bang. "Just some things for Chan, from Walmart."  
> "WHAT? Walmart is the epicentre of Coronavirus!"  
> "It will be fine-"  
> "What things?"  
> "He needs soap for the shower and-"  
> "Okay, okay." I shake my head. The thought of Chris in the shower is absolutely the last thing I need floating around in my head right now.
> 
> Too late.
> 
> \------------

'Tell Chan to come upstairs,' Charlotte writes in a personal chat window during class time on Zoom.

'No! And I'm trying to listen to the teacher!'

The thought of Chan, or Chris as he likes to be called, coming upstairs gets my heart speeding up. Annoyingly enough, I dreamed of him last night. I didn't even wake every hour of the night to check if the sun had come up yet. I just woke to the sun shining, and I was almost late for class. I slept straight through my alarm! I never sleep straight through my alarm.

The teacher talks on and on, and I write down the topic we are supposed to discuss tomorrow. 'Find an example of a news story that shows a violation of the Human Rights Act.'

I open another window on my computer and go onto Facebook, to message my mom.

'Can you bring me food please? I didn't have time to make toast and tea this morning'

I also didn't want to go downstairs this morning in case Chris was there. He does something to my brain that seems unhealthy, like involuntarily taking a drug that I never intended to take.

My mom responds almost instantly,

'I'm making eggs and turkey bacon. Do you want to come down and have breakfast with Chan after you're done class?'

There's no way that's happening. He's probably wearing something sexy and I won't even be able to eat in front of him.

'I don't get the half hour break between the classes today,' I lie. 'Can you just bring it up for me please? ^_^ '

'Sure, it will be done in five minutes'

'Thanks :D '

I close the window and put Mr. Hapman back on screen. It's nice to see his familiar face and the other kids in my class. I feel a pang of sadness from missing them. But it helps that I get to see them every day on Zoom, even if it's just virtually.

My agenda for today is; school, then lunch (in my room), Tik-Tok dances for exercise (in my room), homework and Netflix (in my room), supper (in my room), and reading 'Uglies' for literary class (also in my room).

I rub my face. How long will I be able to keep this up? It's one thing to be self isolating in a house, but quite worse to be trapped in your room, for who knows how many weeks.

"Everything alright, Eden?" Mr. Hapman asks and I'm suddenly embarrassed that everyone can see me.

"Yes!" I say quickly and sit up in my chair.

"I hope my teaching isn't boring you," Mr. Hapman says.

"No!"

"Alright, how many of you think it is a violation of the right to vote, for prisoners not to be allowed to vote?"

Later in the afternoon my tummy rumbles again. Isolation at home seems to make me hungry way more than usual. After mom's big breakfast, which I'm sure had more to do with feeding Chris, than it did with feeding me, I didn't think I'd be hungry until supper. But it's only 1:30pm and I'm already starving. Online classes take up a lot of energy, even if I'm just sitting there.

I lay back onto my bed and wonder what Chris is doing right now.

He's got everything in the basement; my PlayStation, my piano, my twinkly lights. I wonder if he plays the piano...

An image of the two of us playing a duet on the piano together and singing in harmony, assaults my thoughts. I grab an innocent stuffed animal from my bed and shove it in my face to stifle my scream of frustration. He's too perfect. I feel like an ugly rat beside a beautiful snow leopard. Why is he here, in my house? Shouldn't he be... with other beautiful people?

There's a knock on my door and I throw my stuffy across the room in surprise, like an automatic reflex, not meaning to. It almost hits my mom in the face as she opens my door.

"What are you doing?" She's holding a glass of milk and a plate with two cookies on it; homemade cookies.

"Sorry!"

"You almost made me spill the milk."

"You made cookies?" I sit up.

Mom shrugs.

I roll my eyes. "This isn't a hotel you know. You don't have to do stuff like make big meals and desserts just because Chris is staying here?"

"Chris?"

"I mean, Chan." Am I the only one he asked to call him Chris?

"Yes, well I make meals for you all the time. And I didn't have much else to do."

"I thought you had Voice Over jobs."

"I do." Mom sighs and sets down the cookies on my computer desk. "Maybe you can help me out with that."

"My voice is too lower now, it's lower than yours-"

"No, I don't mean with child voice overs, with Chan."

"What?"

"You are up here all the time. Why don't you go talk to him? Show him that Towerfall game that you play all the time on the PlayStation. Go hang out in the basement. You're kids, you should play together."

Kids? Play??? I'm almost 16 and he's gotta be like... 18? At least. Is she crazy?

"I could," I say, clearing my throat. "But I have so much homework."

Mom frowns and sets down the glass of milk and leaves.

I look at the cookies, freshly baked. They look so delicious but now I don't feel hungry anymore. The hunger has been replaced by a nervous feeling. I know my Mom's right. I can't keep hiding in my room. And I feel guilty too. We have a guest and I've been staying in my room, like I'm pouting, and putting all the pressure on my mom. The only place she has is the kitchen and Chris is probably there all the time. Teenage guys eat all day. And I haven't even gone down today at all. Chris will think I'm being childish, refusing to go down like I'm moping about having someone stay with us.

I swallow hard and look in the mirror. I got dressed for online school this morning, so I'm not in my pyjamas at least. I washed my hair yesterday so it still looks okay.

Wait, why am I obsessing over this? Sure, Chris looks super hot, but that doesn't mean I have to start wearing make-up all of a sudden and planning out clever conversational topics to entertain him. I just don't have the energy for all that. Being home is tiring as it is, and it's too cold outside to go for walks right now, so the lack of exercise is also making me tired. I mean, except for the workout my heart got when I saw Chris in his pyjama bottoms last night and no shirt!

Stop Stop Stop!

I pick up the plate of cookies and my glass of milk. I'll go downstairs and eat my cookies at the dining room table and ask Chris a couple of questions, just long enough to make my mom think I'm attempting civil conversation and she's relieved of her social duties. then she can go do her Voice Over work in her closet recording studio and I can return to my room, having done my good deed for the day.

I head down the stairs, stepping lightly. The lack of voices from downstairs makes it hard to tell what is happening down there, but I can hear dishes clinking.

I arrive to see my mom loading the dishwasher and no Chris to be found.

I head to the couch and sink down into it, sitting so I'm facing towards the open kitchen.

"I can put the dishes away after the load is done," I tell my mom. The smell of the cookies on my plate draws my attention and I take one and bite into it. "Omgosh so good." We should have had Chris come earlier, if we were going to start eating so good because he's here.

"Take the laundry out of the drier, so Chan can put in a load."

I almost choke on my cookie. I have Victoria Secret underwear in there! Not thongs or anything actually sexy, just cute underwear with the lace waistband, because it's the most comfortable and you can't get quality like that at Walmart. I shove the rest of my cookie into my mouth and get up.

"I'll go do that right now!" I say through a mouthful of cookie. The thought of Chan taking out my laundry is enough to motivate me, even enough for me to leave my second cookie behind.

"I'm also going to the store," my mom says.

I stop. "What?"

"I need to go get some things."

"What things? From where?"

My mom shuts the dishwasher door with a bang. "Just some things for Chan, from Walmart."

"WHAT?"

"It's fine Eden, you know how careful I am."

"Walmart is the epicentre of Coronavirus mom."

"It will be fine-"

"If he needs things, then he should go!"

"No." My mom sets her hands on her hips. "I don't trust a teenage boy to be as germ conscious as I am. I will wear gloves and take all the necessary precautions and I will keep two meters away from everyone. Do you think he would do that?"

She has a point. If Chris went he'd probably bring the Coronavirus straight to our house. But how important are these things he needs?

"What things mom?"

"He needs soap for the shower and-"

"Okay, okay." I shake my head. The thought of Chris in the shower is absolutely the last thing I need floating around in my head right now.

Too late.

I groan in frustration. That image will remain engraved in my psyche for all eternity now. Thanks a lot, Mom.

"I won't be long," Mom says.

"Can't we order it with the next grocery drop off?"

"That wouldn't come in for at least a week. They're pretty backed up with deliveries right now."

I hear Chris before I see him, coming up the stairs. His eyes flash with a look so sincere that my knees almost give out beneath me. His blond hair is spilling out from beneath a black toque and he's wearing a black t-shirt with a v-neck line, which makes me think of how he looked like shirtless the night before.

"Laundry!" I say for no reason then run into the main level restroom where the laundry machines are.

How embarrassing! Could I be any more weird?

I open the drier and start shoving my clothes into the nearest laundry basket.

When I come out of the laundry room my mom is at the front door and she leaves before I can say goodbye. My grip tightens on the basket. I'm alone.

"Hey, mate?" Chris says and I jump, almost dropping my basket this time. He quickly moves to help catch it but I turn away like he's just threatened to steal the basket from me or something.

He raises both hands as though in surrender.

"Listen," he says. "I know this must be strange for you, having me in your house like this."

I shake my head but can't seem to form words.

"I want us to be okay? Alright?" He lowers his arms and begins talking with his hands, gesturing along with his words. "I'm not here to take over your life, or your schedule. You don't have to entertain me like a guest or anything, alright?"

Has he been reading my mind?

"Your mum," he continues, "has been so accommodating." He says the word 'so' with an 'r' at the end, like soooo-r and I can't stop looking at his lips. "But I just want you both to pretend I'm not here. Okay? Just go ahead with your day to day things. I can manage fine."

I nod my head. Like I could ever pretend he's not here! He lowers his arms and offers his hand as though for a handshake.

I step back with my laundry basket.

"Right, you've got a basket in your hands." He hugs his arms around his shoulders, like he's embarrassed. For an illogical moment I wonder if he's nervous too.

"Okay," I say, clearing my throat. His moment of shyness seems to give me courage. "I know you can manage just fine and it's probably best if we try and stay out of each other's way and-"

"Wait." Chris begins motioning with his hands again. "You don't have to tell me the password, but if you could sign in to your PlayStation account then I can play the new Assassin's Creed you've got downloaded there."

I haven't even played the new Assassin's Creed yet!

"I... have to take my laundry upstairs."

"Right!" Chris nods and gives me a wink. "No'r problem. After, then."

My stomach clenches and I know I have an angry look on my face but it's only because his hotness is so unfair. It physically hurts to be on the receiving end of such a sexy wink. And when I'm nervous I sometimes get an angry glare on my face and I can't help it. I'm not actually angry.

He nods again then heads down the stairs.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \---------
> 
> I grab the controller, which is thankfully far away from him. Then I sit on the armrest of the couch, on the side farthest from Chris, to wait for the PlayStation to boot up.
> 
> "You don't need to social distance from people you're living with, you know'r," Chris says.
> 
> My heart begins to speed up.
> 
> "I'm not," I say.
> 
> \--------------

"Hello?" I call down the stairs. The lights are off and my eyes haven't adjusted to the dark yet, from upstairs. The blinds are usually shut down here, so I can watch movies or play video games during the day.

I head down slowly to find the living room empty. Chris must be in his room. I glance over and see that the door is closed. Is he sleeping? I just saw him like 5 minutes ago. I was in my room no more than a few minutes before my guilt overpowered my embarrassment, and I had to come back to give Chris my password for the PlayStation. Plus, mom isn't home yet, so I need a distraction so I don't worry.

"Chris?" I say.

Suddenly his door opens and he steps out with a cautious smile on his lips. He's in pyjama bottoms again. Was he wearing those earlier?

"I... um." 

I wave my hand towards the TV. 

"I can, do the..."

He smiles and heads over to the couch. He's removed his toque and his hair is all tousled, like he just got out of bed.

This was a mistake. I'm a bundle of nerves and hormones around him.

He turns on the PlayStation and doesn't say anything.

I grab the controller, which is thankfully far away from him. Then I sit on the armrest of the couch, on the side farthest from Chris, to wait for the PlayStation to boot up.

"You don't need to social distance from people you're living with, you know'r," Chris says.

My heart begins to speed up.

"I'm not," I say.

He takes a breath, through his teeth and says something in Korean.

"I don't understand Korean."

He doesn't look at me but keeps his gaze on the T.V. "It is like this, isn't it? In Canada. Social distancing is just how your country always is, I think. Your culture."

I think about this. If I didn't count the kids in drama class, and just looked at the way Canadians are socially, he's right. There isn't a lot of physical contact, like the French people kissing on the cheek, or the Italians always hugging. We are kind of a culture that keeps to ourselves.

"Back home, we have skinship," Chris says.

My heart begins to beat even faster.

"This will take a lot to get used to, for me," Chris continues. He seems to draw in on himself, sinking into the couch. My heart clenches. I could go sit beside him. I could be like some of the girls in drama club who run up to a guys from behind and jump onto their back, or randomly sit down in their lap and start laughing at everything they say. Why am I so cold and unfriendly? I'm more affectionate than this with my friends. But then again, Chris and I aren't exactly friends yet. And I'm not a sit-in-your-lap kind of person either.

"I just need time to get to know you," I say, then I'm immediately horrified.

"OH! No, no, no-r," Chris puts his hands up again. "I didn't mean-"

"Oh, no,"I put my hands out too. "I didn't mean that either. Like, I didn't mean we'll start cuddling or something."

Cuddling? Holy crap! SHUT UP, Eden!

Chris laughs out loud, showing a row of perfect teeth. His eyes squint and he holds his side as he laughs.

"No-r, it's okay," he says between laughing fits. "Really, I know'r you didn't mean that." 

He continues laughing and I can't help but laugh too. I know I should be horrified at the stupid words that came out of my mouth, but his laughter is contagious.

He notices that the PlayStation is finished booting up, first. "Alright!" he says. "I haven't played these type of games for a long time."

I smile and select my account. My mom's account barely has anything on it, except for a game called Detroit. Something about the future where A.I. robots are slaves for humans. She doesn't like it when I'm around when she plays it, she says it's not appropriate for me or something.

"You have Detroit!" Chris says, his eyes lighting up.

"It's my mom's." I quickly sign in to my account and select Assassin's Creed.

I look at Chris. He looks small right now, curled up on the couch, like a boy version of himself. Maybe it's the anticipation of playing video games, or the fact that he's far from home and, like he said, he has no skinship or physical contact to look forward to in his near future, so he's all alone. Whatever it is, he looks so vulnerable and I want desperately to comfort him.

I walk over and hand him the controller.

He smiles slightly. "Thanks." His eyes search mine, as though looking for some clue as to what I think of him. What do I think?   
I think you're gorgeous, super adorable, sweet, too good for this world, too innocent and pure, too sexy and toned, too too much for me to cope with.

He takes the remote. "Do you want to stay and play too'r?"

"It's one player," I say.

No! What am I saying? 

Stay Eden! 

But I turn and walk to the stairs.

Go back! Stay and watch him play. Sit beside him, be a friend. Don't be so stand-off-ish! 

I sigh. If he asks me again to stay, or if he stops me on my way up the stairs, to say anything at all, then I'll stay.

But he doesn't, and I don't stay. 

I walk upstairs, wishing I wasn't such a coward.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \-----------
> 
> My days were starting to blur together; one day into the next, trapped in this house, never going anywhere. Each week feels like a year. But with Chris here now, even the kitchen seems like a brand new place. He makes things come alive.
> 
> I want to lean my head onto his shoulder and feel his hands on my waist again.
> 
> "Do you want to go?" he asks, the bass of his voice reverberating through my shoulder where we're touching.
> 
> "Go?" I snap out of my reverie and turn to face him. His eyes flash with mischief and he raises an eyebrow.
> 
> "Yes. Go see where the smoke is coming from."
> 
> \-----------------

It's midnight.

How is it already midnight?

I hate myself for staying in my room all day. It was nice outside today, for the first time in weeks. I could have gone for a bike ride. Now it's cold again and will probably snow. Mom brought my supper to my room, not even asking me to come downstairs this time. She looked sad.

"How was going to the store today?" I asked her.

"It was quiet." She looked worn out. "The town is so empty. It's a bit scary."

The rest of the evening I played Dragon Raja on my phone and now I'm on Tik-Tok. I still haven't found an article on how something goes against the Charter of Rights, or whatever the homework was for tomorrow, but I'm too tired to do homework. And I can't go to bed, until I've done it. I stare at my phone, not even looking at what's on the screen. I'm just sitting in my chair half awake.

There's a light knock on my door and for a second I wonder if I dreamed it. My mom never knocks, she just walks in.

Then I hear a shuffling sound and see a piece of paper being pushed under my door. I untangle myself from my chair, my limbs aching from non-use.

I lean down to get the note but then just collapse onto the floor and sit down to read it. The note is written in neat, tiny writing, every first letter capitalized of each word.

'I don't have your instagram or snapchat, so I can't message you.  
If you're awake, come and see this, in the kitchen.'

It's got to be Chris' writing.

I'm awake now!

I get up. I'm still in my clothes from class this morning. I was too lazy to change back into pyjamas again, and just stayed uncomfortable all day instead.

I grab my hairbrush and run it through my hair, rearranging my bangs, over and over, then finally giving up.

What could Christ have to show me, that I wouldn't already know about, in my own kitchen? Something Mom brought home from the store today?

The idea of something new and shiny in the house makes me happy. We don't go to craft stores anymore or buy new clothes at the mall, or buy anything. Mom doesn't even like the idea of getting packages from the postman either.

I turn off my desk lamp and stretch out my stiff muscles. Now I feel too nervous to go downstairs. It's midnight. Why is Chris still up? Whenever I hesitate too long to do something, I second guess myself. Maybe I should just go to bed and tell Chris in the morning that I didn't see the note until then.

Finally curiosity wins over, and I open my door. My mom's bedroom door down the hall is closed, which means she's probably sleeping, or reading.

The house is quiet. I hurry down the stairs.

"Woah!"

I run right into Chris, who is standing at the bottom of the stairs in the dark, on his phone. I put my hands out to stop myself from crashing into him, but since I'm higher up on the stairs, my arms just end up going over his shoulders, like I intended to run down the stairs and throw my arms around his neck. He lets out a surprised grunt as we collide, and he drops his phone with a clatter. His arms go around me and we're suddenly in a big embrace, one that sends us in a spin.

Chris sets me down, but leaves his hands on my waist.

"Nice to see you too'r, mate," he says.

I'm horrified.

I blush deeply and try to step away. "Sorry."

Chris lets go of me and leans down to get his phone. He's wearing a black hoodie, which makes his light skin and blonde hair seem to glow in the shadows. Why is he in the living room in the dark?

"Look at this," he says, showing me his phone. It's a picture of a skyline. It looks like our backyard facing the field and the trees, out towards the end of town. Our house is on a block that has no back alley, just a field at the edge of town. At night you can hear the Coyotes out there, and really massive sounding crickets.

"Come see. Maybe you can still see it." Chris tugs on my arm and his touch puts my senses on high alert. I guess we're okay to touch now, now that we got our first physical contact out of the way, so dramatically, with me throwing myself into his arms.

Chris pulls me to the kitchen window facing the backyard. The moon is bright out tonight and I can see the tree line past our fence.

"The smoke," Chris says, pointing.

"Oh." I see it now, rising up towards the moon, coming from the trees somewhere. "Maybe someone is having a campfire," I say.

"Is there a campground, out there?"

"No." There's a patch of trees and then more fields. No campgrounds or houses or fire pits. And the smoke looks a bit too much for a simple campfire. "Do you think the trees are on fire?"

Chris shakes his head no. The movement makes me notice that we're standing so close together that our shoulders touch.

The hum of the fridge is the only sound as we stand side by side, watching the smoke rise above the trees, billowing slowly up to the sky, like it's moving in slow motion. I don't want to leave Chris' side, ever. I feel complete. Standing beside Chris is like standing beside a fountain of life. He wakes me up, brings me alive.

My days were starting to blur together; one day into the next, trapped in this house, never going anywhere. Each week feels like a year. But with Chris here now, even the kitchen seems like a brand new place. He makes things come alive.

I want to lean my head onto his shoulder and feel his hands on my waist again.

"Do you want to go?" he asks, the bass of his voice reverberating through my shoulder where we're touching.

"Go?" I snap out of my reverie and turn to face him. His eyes flash with mischief and he raises an eyebrow.

"Yes. Go see where the smoke is coming from."

"We can't it's..." my brain stops working. Why can't we go? We can't go out this late. Can we? But there's no one around, we won't be breaking any Coronavirus rules, right? Is there a curfew for the city?

I look back out into the moonlit night. My mom would never let me. If I snuck out without telling her she'd wake up and find me gone from my room and freak out. But she doesn't usually come looking for me in my room at night. Or does she? Knowing my luck, this would be the one night that she did come and check up on me.

"Do you have a bike?" Chris asks.

I nod.

"Is it in the garage?"

I nod again.

"Do you have two bikes? One for your mom?"

"Yes... but."

"You don't want to go?"

I swallow hard. I want to go anywhere Chris goes. But my mom would be so mad, and worried. I can't leave her home alone in the middle of the night, in the middle of a Pandemic.

"It's pretty cold outside," I manage to say.

"It's okay, don't worry." Chris sighs and gives me a halfhearted smile.

He looks disappointed. Something inside my chest squeezes hard. It hurts to see him disappointed, especially since I'm the one that has disappointed him.

I want to say I'll go, that I've changed my mind. But my voice just won't work.

Chris steps away from the window and my shoulder is suddenly left cold by his absence. I turn to watch him go.

"Good night, Eden," he says.


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \-------------
> 
> It's 5:30pm.
> 
> Chris' chicken caesar wrap and the coffee I made him are still on the dining room table, untouched.
> 
> A pang of worry assaults my stomach. Why is he still not up? Is something wrong?
> 
> I hurry down the stairs, not caring if I embarrass myself.
> 
> I walk into Chris' room, not knocking. The room is dark and my note is still on the floor.
> 
> "Chris?"
> 
> \---------

I can't concentrate on online school because Chris' note is on my desk and seeing his writing makes my insides do a little dance.

Did last night really happen? Have we really moved into the touching stage of friendship now? He's probably right about Canadians, how we're not as used to it. But now with the Coronavirus thing and the huge emphasis on social distancing, it feels almost criminal to touch someone. But he lives here now. Which means we're allowed in each others' social distancing space.

I think about our collision at the bottom of the stairs, again, and I can feel his large hands on my waist.

I shake my head to clear it. Why is this consuming all my thoughts?

"How is everyone doing?" Mr. Hapman asks. "We're nearing the end of our time and I just want to check in. This social distancing and isolating and not seeing anyone in real life, is hard. How are you guys handling it?"

I try to listen to the responses from the others, but say nothing.

I wasn't handling the social distancing very well, I realize, until Chris came. Now all I can think about is his hands on my waist. So maybe I'm still not handling it well! Maybe it's made me crave affection like crazy!

Mr. Hapman talks about baby monkeys and isolation but my mind wanders to Chris again.

When the online class session finally ends, I put on a warm hoodie and two pairs of socks. I feel bad for not going with Chris to check out the smoke last night. He really seemed to want to go. But I couldn't do that to my mom. But now that classes are over, we can ride our bikes out there and see if we can find out where that smoke was coming from. I put my hair in a ponytail then hurry down the stairs.

Mom is in the kitchen making lunch.

"You're eating downstairs today?" she asks.

"Where's Chris?"

"I don't know."

"How do you not know? He lives with us."

"Downstairs." Mom looks unhappy and I feel bad.

"Sorry," I say, "for being rude."

She stops chopping cucumbers and looks at me. "Where are you going?"

"Chris said he wants to go for a bike ride today."

I glance out the kitchen window to see if the smoke is still there. It's not. Shoot, Chris will be disappointed.

"That would be good!" Mom's face brightens. She always wants me to go outside more, even just in the backyard or on the porch swing, which we have out on the grass in the back yard and not on the porch.

"Go see if he's awake," she says.

Awake? It's noon. But then again, he might be trying to get used to the time zone here or something.

I head down into the basement on my tiptoes. The lights are off and the living room area is empty. Well, he's not playing video games.

The game controllers on the couch call out to me, drawing me to them. I want to play something, but it looks like Chris might still be sleeping. His door is closed and I don't hear any sounds coming from inside the room. I can't just wake him with my controller clicking.

I head back upstairs to help mom with lunch. She's making wraps and I decide to make us all iced coffees, the ones everyone is making on Tik-Tok. I've been wanting to try it for a while.

It's a good distraction, but once we're all done and sitting down to eat, I get nervous again that Chris is still sleeping. I should just let him sleep, but I want him to come upstairs. I feel like a brat who just wants what she wants.

"This is really good!" Mom says once we're settled at the dining room table. I look at Chris' plate with the chicken caesar wrap on it, and his cup of iced coffee sitting beside it. The coffee and froth have separated, even though I mixed all together really well with the milk, and the ice is beginning to melt.

I drink mine desperately, like I need it to survive. It's really good.

"Are you going to get Chris?" I ask Mom.

"Chan?"

"Yes."

"I don't want to go down into his space," Mom says.

"It's our space," I say, defensively.

Mom gives me a disapproving look. "Don't be like that."

"But you said when the basement was done I could do my music down there, and play my games." I don't know why I'm being difficult. The coffee is messing with my head. I think the sugar is making me dizzy.

"You can still do those things," Mom says. "You just have to share."

I don't want to make her feel guilty for bringing Chris to live with us. I think I really needed him to be here. But I can't tell her that.

She gets up, finished with her wrap, and takes my plate too, to the sink.

I suck on my iced-coffee, already slurping the last big of liquid at the bottom of the ice. It's too delicious to drink slowly. Chris' coffee will get watered down with the ice melting if he doesn't have it soon.

I run to the fridge and pull off a sheet from the magnetic 'to do' list notepad.

I grab a pen from the junk drawer and write:

'Chris, are you up? Mom made wraps for lunch and I made you an iced-coffee. It's already melting haha.  
Let's go for a bike ride to see where that smoke was coming from.'

I look at my writing. It looks like someone in grade one wrote it.

I resist the urge to crumple the paper up and start again. I should remove the part about his iced coffee melting. But whatever, I just need to slip this under his door and get it over with, or I just won't do it.

Mom has gone up to her room again, probably to do some voice over recordings, and the house is quiet.

I go downstairs, my heart pounding, and slip the note under the door. Should I knock, like he did when he came to my door?

But I can't seem to bring myself to do it, and I head back upstairs to wait instead.

I turn on the fireplace and go grab my book for literacy class. For the first time ever I don't feel like being on my phone. I'm just too unsettled. I just want Chris to wake up already. Is this what it would have been like to have a sibling, growing up? An older brother? Is this what Anna felt like, asking Elsa if she wants to build a snowman? Just waiting in front of a closed door, wishing Elsa would come out?

I sigh and look out the window. Flecks of snow fall to the ground. I really should have gone out yesterday when it was still warm out. Not that it was super warm, but now my face will freeze, riding my bike, and mom will force me to wear a toque. I suddenly remember Chris in his black toque, with his blonde bangs showing underneath. I grab a throw pillow from the couch and hug it tight.

Come on Chris, wake up.

I open my book begrudgingly and keep reading the novel. It has silly names for places, like New Pretty Town and Crumbly Ville, which is where the Crumblies (or the old people, who I guess are crumbling?) live. But it's an easy book to read at least, and I can get my quiz on it out of the way and be done with the literacy assignment already.

I read for almost an hour, then fall asleep on the couch with the fireplace on.

When I wake, the living room is cold and dark. Someone turned off the fireplace and the sky outside is dark with clouds outside. The familiar feeling comes back, of being afraid that the sun has gone down and won't be up again for a while.

"Mom?" I call. "Mom!!"

"What?" I hear my Mom's frustrated voice from upstairs.

"Where are you?"

"Where would I be?"

"Sorry."

"I'm on a video call."

She closes her door and I get up to turn the lights on.

It's 5:30pm. Mom's probably not going to make supper tonight. But I'm not hungry anyway. That coffee really filled me up I guess.

Chris' chicken caesar wrap and the coffee I made him are still on the dining room table, untouched.

A pang of worry assaults my stomach. Why is he still not up? Is something wrong?

I hurry down the stairs, not caring if I embarrass myself.

I walk into Chris' room, not knocking. The room is dark and my note is still on the floor.

"Chris?"

"Eden?" Chris' voice cracks with tiredness. There's a moment of silence, then Chris' phone lights up his face. He looks tired, his lips puffy and his eyes hazy with sleep. But he's so attractive I have to sit down, right there, on the floor. He's not wearing a shirt and the blankets are pulled up to his waist, so I don't know for sure what he's wearing underneath.

He runs his hand through his hair. "It's five thirty?" he says, a confused look on his face. "In the morning?"

"No, at night," I say from my spot on the floor. I take my note and crumple it up, then put it into my pocket.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he says, though I'm not sure for what. For sleeping in for a long time?

"Are you sick?" I ask, suddenly concerned. What if he's got COVID-19? I get up.

"No," he lifts a hand as though to stop me from coming over and I suddenly feel embarrassed for invading his space. Mom told me not to. I should leave him to change. But he slept for like 17 hours.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm okay." Chris jumps out of bed, suddenly full of energy. I hold my breath. But he's wearing pyjama bottoms.

"I'm going to shower," he says.

He walks past me and I almost reach out to touch him. Skinship. I need skinship. So desperately. But only with Chris' skin. The scent of campfire follows after him as he walks by. But it could just be my imagination.

Chris goes straight into the bathroom and shuts the door, leaving me in the darkness again. A second later I hear the sound of the shower running. He seems quite determined to start the day, or evening.

Will he still want to go bike riding to find where the smoke was coming from?

I sit down on the couch, contemplating whether I should play video games while I wait for Chris to finish his shower. But what if he walks out in a towel and sees me sitting here, like a creep, waiting for him?

I decide to go upstairs and unload the dishwasher. I throw the iced coffee down the drain and rinse the glass.

Chris takes a long time getting ready and when he comes upstairs he's wearing his black hoodie again and jeans. His hair is styled and blowdried, like he's ready to go somewhere.

He doesn't see me at first and goes straight to the window to look out into the backyard.

"The smoke wasn't there today," I say, startling him when I speak.

He turns around and smiles. "Goodday," he says, turning up the charm full blast. I'm struck by his beautiful lips and can't respond.

"I'm starving," Chris says, stretching.

"Oh!" I shake myself out of my thoughts. "My mom made you a chicken caesar wrap." I motion to the plate on the table. "But it's a bit old now-"

Chris is already shoving it into his mouth.

I pour him a glass of juice from the fridge and take it to him. He's still looking out the window and seems deep in thought. I want to ask him what he's thinking about but I don't want to interrupt his thinking.

He turns and sees the juice.

"Thanks!" he says. He winks and I suddenly lose all my brain cells.

He takes a drink then looks at me like he's trying to decide something.

"Do you think your mum would be okay with you riding your bike out past that field?" he asks.

I blink, taking a second to put the words together in my brain so they make sense. Would my mom be okay with me riding out there? "Maybe? But during the day and when it is warmer," I say.

Chris nods.

"But, I mean, maybe we could go now, before it gets completely dark." I look out at the tree line. We wouldn't get all the way out there and back before it got really dark. At least the snow stopped falling, and there's only a thin layer of snow on the ground.

"You don't want to go in the dark?" Chris asks, his eyes searching mine.

I blush and look away, unable to cope with the full impact of his eyes on me.

"Not really," I shrug. "You can't see anything in the dark and there are Coyotes."

"You are right," Chris says. "It's not safe for you."

He finishes his wrap and juice, then asks me if I want to play a game on the PlayStation. I challenge him to a game of Towerfall, a cheesy game with old-school graphics, but I'm very good at it. He accepts and doesn't bring up going out to the fire again.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \-----------
> 
> I feel my face start to flush. Why am I so awkward?  
> I guess if he wanted to be close in any way, he would. It’s just wishful thinking on my part that he's waiting for me to make the first move.  
> “Okay,” I say. “Have a good night!” I turn and head up the stairs.  
> “You too’r!” Chris calls after me.
> 
> \-----------

Chris jumps up onto his knees on the couch, moving the controller all around in front of him as he tries to dodge my arrows.  
I’m well practiced at this game and hit his little pixelated guy on the screen, as he tries to run the other way.  
“No-r!” he yells, then falls over dramatically, sliding off the couch in defeat.

It’s the first time I’ve seen him so bubbly and animated. It’s also the first time I noticed he has two gold hoop earrings and is wearing some eye makeup today. I think I’m usually too intimidated to look at him for too long, but when he was concentrating on the game I could take time to look.

He smiles up at me from the floor. His feet are still on the couch, but he’s laying on his back.  
“I’m tired,” he says.  
“Oh.” I sit up. Does he want me to leave? How can he be tired already? It’s only 10:30 and he slept until past 5!

“Are you feeling okay?” I ask.  
Chris sits up too. “Yeah. I feel fine.”

Oh no! I should have taken it easy on the game. I’ve played it a thousand times and this is only Chris’ first time! I’m so dumb! Of course he’s tired of playing this game, when I keep beating him before he can even have a chance to get the hang of it.  
“We can play something else,” I offer. “What about Detroit?” He was so excited about that game the other day.

Chris fidgets with his controller, looking down so I can’t see the expression on his face. He doesn't say anything.  
Oh my gosh, I’m being too needy. Maybe he just wants to be alone.  
I quickly get up.  
“I just remembered. I have a bunch of homework to do for tomorrow.”

“Cool!” Chris stands too and smiles.  
So he did want me to leave.  
We stand there awkwardly for a moment.   
Does he want me to hug him? Like the friendship kind of skinship he mentioned, that he’s used to back home?

I feel my face start to flush. Why am I so awkward?  
I guess if he wanted to be close in any way, he would. It’s just wishful thinking on my part that he's waiting for me to make the first move.  
“Okay,” I say. “Have a good night!” I turn and head up the stairs.  
“You too’r!” Chris calls after me.

Upstairs I’m a bundle of nerves. What is wrong with me? It’s like I feel unsettled unless I’m with Chris.   
When he’s around I feel fine, like nothing is wrong. Like COVID doesn’t even exist.   
But I’ve only known him for like two days! He’s just so charismatic. And tonight got to see more of that, of how lively and fun he can be. His energy is addicting.

I pace around my room.  
I do have homework, but there’s no way I can concentrate on it now.   
Why is Chris tired all the time? It worries me.

I hear my mom leave her bedroom and I quickly go out into the hallway.  
“Hi!” I say and she gets startled.

“Oh, Eden” she says, holding her hand to her chest. “Sorry I’ve been so busy these last couple of days.”   
She has bags under her eyes and looks exhausted.  
“I'm recording an audiobook. It's a lot more work than I realized.”  
“Oh, I didn't know you were recording an audiobook." I say. That does sound time consuming.

“I didn’t tell you? Well it will take a while.” Mom sighs and looks at me. “You look a lot better,” she says.  
“I do?”  
“Yes. You were so down before.” She’s quiet for a moment. “Why are you smiling?”  
“Me?” I push on my cheek, as though to check. “Am I smiling?”  
“You look like you have a secret.”

My mom can always tell when I have a secret, but for once she’s wrong. I don’t have one.  
“Did you get a message from Kyle?” she asks.  
“Kyle? No! Why would I get a message from him? I haven’t heard from him in months.”  
Why does everyone always ask me about Kyle? We went out on ONE date and that was it. And it wasn’t really a date but more like attending a community event.  
“Okay, well, are you hungry?” Mom asks.

I’m not sure. Am I? I can’t tell with all the butterflies in my stomach, which pooled there after being with Chris’ 'animated-self' all evening, downstairs.  
“I didn’t have supper,” I say. “So I should be hungry.”  
Mom’s shoulders drop. “I should have made supper.”  
“No! I’m not even hungry. Really. I can always make myself something when I’m hungry. That coffee I made at lunch filled me up.”  
“Okay, well you must be hungry now. Want to have some rice and fish and watch Glee?”

I suppress a groan. I’m so over Glee. That show's ship sailed a decade ago, but my mom just now discovered it on Netflix, when the Pandemic started. I didn’t mind watching it with her at first but it quickly became so repetitive that I lost interest.  
“Sure,” I say anyway. What else am I going to do, pace the floor of my room and avoid my homework?

We eat in the living room, sitting on the couches and it’s like old times again.   
For a short time I even forget about Chris being downstairs and how he seems so oddly tired lately.

“Where’s your phone?” my mom asks.  
“My phone?” I look around as though I’m surprised it’s not with me. But I left it upstairs.  
“You always have your phone. What happened?”  
She's right. It’s weird that I’m not on my phone. I usually scroll instagram, even when I’m watching a show on Netflix.   
It’s actually refreshing to not be on my phone for once. But remembering it brings that nervous feeling to my stomach again. I’ve been avoiding talking to everyone on the group chat. They’ll just ask me about Chris and I don’t want to tell them anything.

“Well, I’m glad you’re not on it,” Mom continues. “It’s almost midnight. Do you have class tomorrow?”  
“Yeah. Wait… no, it’s Friday.”  
“Oh, alright. But you don’t have to stay up late every night, even if there’s no classes tomorrow.” Mom gets up. “Come on, let’s go upstairs. It’s time for bed.”  
I get up too. “Mom, Do you know what that smoke is out there?” I ask, looking out the back window.

Mom squints her eyes and looks too. “I don’t know, maybe someone’s burning something out there.”  
But what would they be burning? And why so late at night?  
I decide not to talk about it. Mom stretches, seeming unconcerned.   
“Maybe we can go for a walk tomorrow. Not here,” she quickly adds, before I can complain. “There are some nice places to walk, about an hour out of town. I don’t think anyone will be there. It’s still quite cold out.”

“Okay,” I say.   
After the first week of home isolation, I made a vow to always say yes to going anywhere, with anyone, if they asked me to go, even if it seemed lame.  
Mom takes our plates to the sink. “Is Chris asleep?”  
“I think so, “ I say.   
My stomach starts to flutter again.   
Chris is asleep in my basement. It seems so surreal.   
Whenever I’m not around him for a time, I start to question his actual existence in my life. Can someone so fun and attractive really exist? Did I dream him up? And when I see him again, it’s like the first time all over again.

We head upstairs and I open my science textbook. I’m determined to get the assignments done. Anything is better than going to bed.   
I look out at the darkness outside. I just don’t feel like I can sleep when it’s that dark out there. It seems too dangerous or something, like going to bed during an earthquake.  
Maybe I’m just worried about Chris.  
It will be hours before the sun is up and everything will be okay again.  
Suddenly I don’t want to be alone.   
I want to go to Starbucks, or to the mall and see people.   
I want to have school tomorrow and walk to the ice cream place with my friends.  
I feel trapped.  
I glance at the clock.  
Almost 1 AM.  
Would Chris still be awake?

Probably not. I still didn’t get his info. Why didn’t we exchange instagram handles yet? Or snapchat?   
I close my blinds so I don’t have to see the darkness, but that only makes the trapped feeling worse.   
I open the blinds again.  
Darkness. Everything is dark outside and there’s no light switch I can flip to turn the brightness up.

I start to hear myself breathing. This is bad. When I can hear myself breathe loudly, then I know I’m heading for a full fledged panic attack, if I don’t calm down soon.  
Calm down, Eden. The sun will be up in like… six hours? Soon.   
Then the world will have light again. Then I can go outside.   
Tomorrow I’ll go outside for sure. I have to promise myself that tomorrow I will go outside. Even if it’s cold.

But the thought of tomorrow doesn’t stop the darkness outside, nor can it stop the invisible virus out there, covering every surface in every place.  
I grab my phone and message the group chat.  
'Hey, anyone up?'

I wait.

No one replies.

I scroll through the previous messages.  
They had a Netflix Party without me?  
I keep scrolling and see that I was invited. That would explain the missed calls too.  
My shoulders slump.

I suddenly want to shower, and watch a K-drama.   
But if I shower then it will wake Mom.  
I can’t take it anymore.  
I get up and head to the stairs.   
I have to see Chris. I can’t be alone right now.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \--------
> 
> “Chris!” I say his name loudly now, and rush to the bed. The fear chokes me and I can’t scream or yell.  
> Mom! Mom! I want to call for her but my voice is gone and my arms are like Jelly.   
> I force myself to pull the blankets aside. I feel like I’m moving through quicksand.
> 
> \--------

Standing in front of Chris’ bedroom door in the dark is crazy.  
But I can’t bring myself to knock. It’s after 1:30 AM now and it would be SO stalker-ish of me to knock on his door this late.  
Talk about me having no boundaries! His room is his safe space. I can’t just keep coming down here and insisting on his company.

I stand there for another five or ten minutes, then look behind me to the stairs.  
I can’t go back up to my room.

I step forward and knock on the door.  
There’s no reply, so I knock a bit louder.  
Still no reply.  
Maybe he has his headphones on.  
I put my hand on the door handle. I shouldn’t open it. It’s so wrong.

But then I remember how he said he was tired. After sleeping for like 17 hours!   
What if he is sick? What if he’s lying in bed sick right now, feverish and having a hard time breathing so he can’t reply?  
I open the door.  
The room is dark and still.

“Chris?”  
There’s a lump on his bed, under the blanket.  
I move a bit closer.  
“Chris?”  
The lump doesn’t move.  
I look more carefully.   
It doesn’t move at all. Not even to breathe.

“Chris!” I say his name loudly now, and rush to the bed. The fear chokes me and I can’t scream or yell.  
Mom! Mom! I want to call for her but my voice is gone and my arms are like Jelly.   
I force myself to pull the blankets aside. I feel like I’m moving through quicksand.

Pillows.

There are two pillows under the blankets.  
I take everything off the bed.

Chris is gone.

\--------

I can’t stop shaking.

It’s 2 in the morning.   
I can’t wake Mom. She was so tired earlier.   
And what can we do anyway?  
Maybe Chris just went for a walk or…

The bikes!

I wobble my way up the stairs, my heart still beating too hard.   
I have to breathe so hard, just to go up the stairs.

When I get there, I open the back door that leads to the garage.  
The pitch black almost freezes me with terror.   
Somehow I reach out into the darkness and find the light switch.   
The garage floods with light and my eyes fill with tears.   
The smell of the garage makes me think of going to school in the mornings, and of driving to places with Mom; visiting Grandma and going to my friend Amara’s house.

Then I notice that my bike is missing.

I slip on my boots and step out into the garage, to walk around my mom’s car.   
My bike is definitely missing.  
My heart has calmed down a bit but my chest hurts with a different feeling now. The feeling of betrayal.   
It makes no sense. Chris can go for a bike ride if he wants to. It's not betrayal.  
But why did he go in the middle of the night? And why didn’t he ask to borrow my bike?

Maybe he couldn’t sleep either, like me. He did sleep like 17 hours the night before after all.

Or maybe he didn’t.

I suddenly realize something.   
What if the reason he slept in so much yesterday was because he was out all night?   
But where would he go? All gatherings are banned. Even my mom’s virtual game board night event on Facebook got a big warning notification at the top, that gatherings weren’t encouraged because of COVID-19, even though she wasn’t planning on them physically getting together.  
Chris probably just needed to get out of the house. I know I do.

I shiver in the garage and decide to head back in.   
I would have gone with him. I would have gotten on a jacket and gloves and rode around the empty neighbourhood.   
Why didn’t he invite me?  
I can’t believe I sound so desperate, even to my own self.   
No wonder Chris didn’t invite me. I’m being too clingy towards him.

I go back to the door and turn the garage lights off.   
Even with a friend living in the house with me, I feel isolated.   
Is he a friend? We had so much fun playing video games tonight, I think I deluded myself into thinking we were.

I lock the garage door, then quickly unlock it again.   
I almost locked Chris out!

I take off my boots and go back up to the living room.   
The house feels cold.   
The smoke is still rising in the distance outside the window. I can see it clearly now that it’s dark inside and the only light is from the moon outside.

I sit down on the couch and watch the smoke rise.   
I can’t go to bed until Chris returns.  
How long can a person bit for out in the cold?  
Maybe I’ll give him until 3 AM, then if he’s still not back I’ll go tell Mom.   
We can drive around looking for him. He could have suddenly gotten sick while riding his bike, and is unable to ride all the way back home.  
The thought makes me shiver again.   
I flip on the fireplace switch. It flares up with a muffled boom sound. I watch the flames, wondering who else is watching flames, from the fire that is making all the smoke out there in the trees.

The next thing I know, it’s morning.

My first thought is that the sun is up. Thank God the sun is up.

But my emotions are smarter than my brain. They’re all riled up and my stomach is in knots, but at first I don’t know why.  
Then my brain catches up to current events.

“Chan!”

I say his name out loud, and for some reason I use his other name, the one my Mom first introduced him with, instead of ‘Chris.’

I tumble off the couch. My legs and arms feel like jelly again.  
What time is it?  
Did Chris come home last night? I can’t believe I fell asleep!

I hurry down the stairs and then stop.

His bedroom door is open and he’s laying on top of the bed, fully clothed. Even his black toque is still on his head.   
He looks completely passed out. The blankets I threw off his bed are still lying on the floor.  
And he’s breathing.  
He’s laying on his stomach, and his back rises with his deep sleep breaths.

His face looks so innocent and young as he sleeps, that I can’t be mad at him.   
All I can feel is a strange and overpowering longing to lay down beside him.

The room is filled with light from the tiny basement window up high.   
I step away from his bedroom door.

I think he’s going to sleep in again today too.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \-----------
> 
> I’m used to always sitting in the back seat by myself, so it feels like Chris has entered a personal place of mine that I haven’t shared before. I guess I’ve had Amara sit in the back seat with me a couple times, but not on a long trip like this.
> 
> I glance at Chris again. Each time I see his face my insides fill with butterflies. I’m letting him get too close to me, but he doesn’t even know.
> 
> \-----------

“Are you ready to go?” Mom says, bouncing into my room.  
I’m mid-bite of an apple and in my pyjamas. It’s 11 AM and I just got up. I know Chris won’t be up for a while, so I can relax and look drab until then.  
I pause my youtube video of the 'Twoset' violin guys.

“Ready to go where?” I ask. Even if we’re going to the grocery store, I would have to shower first.  
Mom is wearing her black Lulu Lemons and a long knitted sweater, which looks way too 80’s. But there’s no point in telling her that her tights can be warn with shorter sweaters, she always covers them like they’re nylons or something.

“Come on," she says. "I want to get as much sunlight as possible.”  
I continue chewing my apple and wait for her to tell me where we’re going.  
She studies herself in my mirror, pulling her hair back and turning from side to side. She's acting like she hasn’t gone out in weeks.   
Oh wait. She hasn’t. Other than to the grocery store.

“I want to take you guys to Lundbreck Falls today!" she says.  
“Isn’t it going to be closed? It’s still winter." I start eating my apple again.  
“No, it’s spring now!”  
“Is it?” How long have we been in house isolation?  
“I don’t think they can close it anyway,” Mom says. “It’s just... nature. You can't close nature.” She grabs one of my hair elastics from my vanity.  
“Don’t use my brush, please,” I say.  
“Oh.” Mom puts the elastic around her wrist. “If there’s still too much snow, we might not be able to go down the steps to get to the falls, but we can see them from above.”  
“Okay, well I still have to shower first.”  
Mom sighs heavily and gives me a look.  
“What?”  
“How long will that take?”

This time, I sigh. She doesn’t give me any notice at all, and suddenly wants me to be ready immediately? I look out my window. The sun is shining so bright that it could be a summer day. The thought of going on a road trip is refreshing actually, even if it’s just a trip with me and Mom…  
“Wait, is Chan coming too?” I ask, remembering that Mom calls him Chan, not Chris.  
“Of course!”  
The butterflies in my stomach start up again. How will I take pictures for Instagram, with Chris there? It will be too embarrassing. But going somewhere with him would be really fun, too. He has a contagious energy.

“Hurry up then and go shower,” Mom says. “We’ll go right after lunch.” She claps her hands together with some sudden revelation. “I’ll pack us lunches for the road! Then we don’t have to waste time eating at home. And I can pack snacks too, so we don’t have to stop at gas stations along the way!"  
She’s already halfway down the stairs and talking to herself now.  
I set my apple down and look at the paused video of Twoset. I guess I’d better go shower.

\--------------

Chris yawns for like the seventh time and gives me an adorable squinty smile. He looks like he’s in a sleepy haze. It’s impossible to be mad at him for sneaking out in the middle of the night and not telling us. But still, what if something had happened? Oh no, I’m sounding like my mom. I never usually care about the stupid things my friends do, like online challenges that could potentially kill them. But with Chris, it’s different.

He leans his head back and closes his eyes. It's so adorable I want to take a picture. I wonder how late he was out last night.  
Mom seems oblivious to how quiet we are in the back, and taps her fingers on the steering wheel, along with her 80’s music. I’m relieved that she’s actually happy for once, and not stressed. She even put make-up on, probably for the 101 selfies she’s going to make me take with her once we’re at the falls, for her Facebook posts.

I came straight to the back seat when we went to the car, not thinking about where Chris would sit. I always sit in the back seat when we go on long drives, because then I have room for my sketch book and markers and the stuff I bring.   
Chris came to the back too and I broke out in a sweat when I realized we’d be sitting in the back together. Even with the box of food and snacks between us, it feels very intimate to be sharing the backseat with him. He looks so big back here. I never really thought of my mom’s car as being super small, but it is. Mom and I are both pretty small too, so I didn't notice before. But Chris takes up the whole space in the back seat, one of his long legs stretched over towards me, the other bent up behind the driver’s seat.

He’s wearing all black again; black jeans and a black hoodie with a little owl detailed on the left side. He also has a black cap on with the word ‘vetements’ across the front. His hood is pulled over his cap, and he’s all bundled up with his arms crossed in front of his chest, and eyes closed. Before long, he's asleep again.  
Mom’s 80’s music makes me cringe so I take out my earphones and my phone. It feels good to be going on a trip with Chris, even if he’s sleeping. Just his presence is enough to make everything okay.  
I’m used to always sitting in the back by myself, so it feels like Chris has entered a personal place of mine that I haven’t shared before. I guess I’ve had Amara sit in the back seat with me a couple times, but not on a long trip like this.

I glance at Chris again. Each time I see his face my insides fill with butterflies. I’m letting him get too close to me, but he doesn’t even know.  
I turn up my music and look out the windows. The fields are endless and in the far distance I see the mountains. I’ve never seen them so covered with snow like this. Usually we go towards the mountains when it's warmer out. It looks like the Northern Kingdom, in Game of Thrones. 

Soon I too fall asleep and wake to the sudden bouncing of the car.   
We’re on a gravel road, crossing a high bridge.  
I rub my eyes and blink into the sunlight, getting my bearings. Where are we?  
“Cool!” Chris says beside me. My stomach butterflies go crazy again. They seriously never get a rest anymore. Chris unrolls his window and sticks his head out. Below us, I can see the river. And I can hear the falls even though I can't see them.  
“Oh no!” Mom says.  
I sit up and look around the seat in front of me, to see what Mom is freaking out about.  
The small parking area where the lookout point is, is packed with cars.

Mom pulls the car over on the side of the gravel road, even though there's room to park in between two cars in the parking area.  
“Even if the out houses are open, we’re not using them,” Mom says, all serious.  
I’m fine for at least a few hours, but I know Mom will need to pee in an hour at best, so I imagine we won’t be here long.  
“Out house?” Chris asks. But he’s already distracted before I can answer him. “Woah. Oh! Ah…” He makes a bunch of random happy sounds and then he’s out the door before the car even comes to a full stop.  
I jump out after him, throwing my earphones into the back seat.

“Wait!” Mom follows after us and I stop when I see a group of Hutterites walk towards their large van. The girls are wearing their long skirts and I wonder how they're not cold. I know mom doesn’t want me to go near people or groups right now, so I wait for them to pass. I don’t want to stress Mom out.

Chris is already taking pictures from the look out post, which is a metal mesh balcony that sticks out over the cliff’s edge, hovering above the falls.  
“Don’t touch anything,” Mom says.  
What would I touch? Rocks?

“Eden!” Chris yells over his shoulder.  
The sound of him calling my name makes my knees weak.  
“Coming!” I call back.  
Mom sighs and I know what she’s thinking. Chris is uncontrollable, unlike me, and he’s less concerned than Mom is about the social distancing rules. It worries me too, a little, especially since I don’t know where he’s been going at night. But it’s too nice of a day out to waste on worrying.

I make my way to the lookout point, not running because I don’t want to seem too eager. When I reach Chris, he turns and gives me a big smile. I grab onto the banister, glad that it’s there or I’d be at the bottom of the falls by now.  
“It’s so nice!” he says, in his Australian accent.  
I stand beside him and look over the side of the banister.  
The falls are almost entirely covered in ice, except for the center, where the water can still be seen flowing. It’s also flowing behind the ice too. It looks like Elsa’s Ice Castle. The smell of ice and snow drifts up with a breeze from below, bringing with it the scent of the water and river too.

“Where the North Wind, meets the sea,” I sing to myself. My voice is carried away by the sound of the rushing waters below. But Chris looks at me as though he's heard me. He puts his arm around my shoulders and I gasp in surprise. After social distancing so long, it feels like breaking the law to let him get close to me in public. But I immediately regret my reaction, even though I did it automatically and couldn't help it.

“Sorry,” Chris says, quickly pulling away.  
“No. It’s the social distancing thing,” I try to explain. “I’ve just gotten so used to it, I even flinch when people get too close to each other in movies now.”  
I turn away so Chris won’t see me blush. “It’s just been me and my mom for so long,” I say.  
“I understand,” Chris replies.

I shut my eyes tight.   
Please put your arm around me again, I think. I shouldn’t have pulled away.  
But Chris doesn’t and I’ve ruined it. Again. He’s never going to try again. I’m going to shrivel up and die from lack of affection, like those poor baby monkeys Mr. Hapman was talking about during video class.  
Suddenly it's harder to breathe and the cold air hurts my lungs to breathe in.  
Where's Mom?

“Let’s go down there,” I say.  
“We can go down?” Chris asks in surprise.  
I turn to look at him and his eyes are wide with excitement.  
“We can go down there?” He points.

I nod and smile, realizing how silly I’m being. Chris is doing his best to enjoy this outing and here I am missing the beauty of it all, by feeling sorry for myself.  
“Let’s go!” Chris runs off the lookout balcony and I follow after him.  
The wind blows my hair into my face, from behind and I’m suddenly blinded. I turn around to make my hair blow behind me instead, but each time I look forward again the same thing happens.

Chris runs back to get me and takes one of my hands, while with the other I try to keep my hair out of my face. He leads me to where two other kids are headed, for the steps leading down. His hand is cold and lovely, but I’m too busy trying not to trip to fully appreciate him holding my hand.  
When we reach the steps, Chris stops, but he doesn’t let go of my hand. My heart beats way too hard.  
“Social distancing,” he whispers to me, then winks. We wait as two kids loiter near the top of the narrow steps. He interlaces his fingers with mine and our palms touch. I don't dare move.

The kids walk along the wall at the edge of the stairs, instead of taking the stairs themselves, and make their way down in the most dangerous way possible. Though I guess the walls are clear of ice and snow, unlike the steps.

Chris lets go of my hand and goes to the stairs. He’s agile and light on his feet.  
I head down too and, true to form, I take two of the steps then slip on some ice.

“Eden!” Mom’s all seeing presence is nearby all of a sudden, and yelling at me. “Be careful!”  
But I've just landed on my hand, in a pile of snow.

“Oh, no’r!” Chris bounds back up the stairs and takes my hand between his palms, before I can even process what’s happening.  
“You okay?” Chris asks. He actually looks concerned, which renders me speechless.  
I nod and pull my hand away. What am I doing! Why am I pulling away?  
I can almost feel Mom’s gaze, coming from somewhere out there, like God watching your every move.

“Come,” Chris says, putting his hand on my waist. “I can help you.”


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \------------
> 
> “Go on the rock with your mum,” Chris says to me. His winks and I don’t argue. I’ve never met a guy so happy with taking selfies. It’s kind of awesome. I can’t even complain to my mom about her wanting to take pictures now. She’s in luck.
> 
> \------------

Even through my thick hoodie and shirt underneath, Chris' touch warms me instantly. And for some reason, I shiver.  
Somehow my legs manage to move forward, but there’s no way I’m going to make it down these stairs without falling. Not with Chris’ hands on me, turning my legs to jelly.

Just as I thought, I stagger the entire way down, like a drunk person. Thankfully, Chris thinks it’s because my boots have no grip and are useless. He lets me lean into him from behind as he leads the way down.

At the bottom, I am totally winded from the experience. I’ve gone weeks without so much as a hug, since Mom and I aren’t huggers, and now I’ve been completely overtaken with touches from Chris. I’m literally vibrating from Chris overdose.  
He seems unaffected by any of it, and is already taking pictures.  
Why would he be affected?  
I’ve climbed off of things with the help of friends before, and it’s never affected me this way. But with Chris it’s like nothing I’ve experienced before, not even with Kyle, who I did like. Or I thought I did, until now. Now I'm starting to understand girls who go boy crazy.

But to Chris, I’m just a friend.

He goes on ahead and I follow in his footsteps, literally. He seems to have a knack for finding the best path through the rocks and snow.  
The sound of the river running between the cliff, bounces off the rock walls surrounding us and tickles my ears. Water drips down the sides of the rock cliff, landing on my head. I pull my hood on and keep moving forward.

As we near the falls, a light mist sprays my face. My mascara’s going to look pretty Goth by the time we return to the car.  
When I see the falls from down here it is all worth it. I climb onto a large rock that's twice my height, and stand on the top edge of it, to get a better look at the falls.   
I’ve been here before, with Mom, but this is the first time I’ve seen the falls covered in ice and snow like this, and it’s magical. It makes me think of when we visited Long Beach and it was so beautiful that it made us both sad, like we both wished we could share it with someone special, other than each other.  
I look at Chris now and feel choked up with emotion.  
He smiles and holds up his phone.  
“Smile!” he says.  
And I do.

“Oh, wow!” he looks at his phone. “You have to see this picture, Eden. Come."  
I sit down on the rock to slide off of it. Now we can finally exchange information. I’ll tell him to send me the picture.  
I feel my bottom get wet with some snow that I couldn’t avoid on my way down the rock. Maybe Mom’s idea of a long sweater to cover your butt isn't such a bad idea after all.  
“What’s your snapchat?” Chris asks.  
“At, Garden of Eden, 2014,” I say.  
He smiles at me and I cover my face. I should have changed my snapchat handle in like grade six.

“Oh, no!” Chris says, holding his phone above his head. “There’s no service.”  
I pull out my phone and check. He’s right. It’s strange to realize that I didn't even notice, and don’t even care that I have no service. That's never happened before. I'm usually glued to my phone.  
Chris smiles down at his phone and takes a low angle selfie, with the cliff wall rising high up, behind him. I resist the urge to run over and hug him.

“I want a picture too!” Mom comes out of nowhere, huffing and puffing. Her face is flushed but she looks happy.  
She holds out her phone to me, but Chris takes it before I can.

“Go on the rock with your mum,” he says to me. His winks and I don’t argue. I’ve never met a guy so happy with taking selfies. It’s kind of awesome. I can’t even complain to my mom about her wanting to take pictures now. She’s in luck.

Mom climbs up the rock in half a second, like she was born in the wild, which she gets from grandma.   
I, on the other hand, can’t seem to get up the second time around, even though the first time I managed to do it just fine. It's probably because now Chris is watching, and waiting.  
He comes up behind me and offers his help, but thankfully mom pulls me up from her spot on the rock, and I avoid getting a boost up from Chris. I’m suddenly way too self conscious about my ‘bottom’ and what it looks like from down below. But I don’t have time to worry about it too much because Chris is already telling Mom and I how to stand and where to put our hands. Apparently he takes his photography pretty seriously.

“Okay, just one more,” he says.  
I stick out my tongue and Chris laughs. He turns his back to us then holds up Mom’s phone for a forward facing selfie of himself, with us in the background on the rock, behind him. He puts up two fingers in a peace sign and I do the same thing, with both my hands.

After, Mom and I climb down from the rock and take like a hundred photos of the icy fortress that the waterfall has created, freezing on its way down over the cliff’s edge. And then we take another hundred selfies of us in front of it, just as I expected we would. We go as close to the falls as we can get without actually falling through the ice into the river below. Then Mom suddenly shoves me towards Chris and forces us to stand together, beside the large rock, with the falls behind us.  
“Smile!” she says.   
Chris pulls me against him and gives me a side hug, and I smile, probably stupidly, but it is impossible to have a calm, camera-worthy smile, when the boy beside you is Chris, and you can’t control grinning like the cheshire cat.

“Okay, we have to go!” Mom announces.  
“What? Why?” I ask, still winded from being squished up against Chris' side.  
“We just have to go," Mom says, turning from grumpy in less than a second. “The sun is going down.”

I look up at the sky. The sun is nowhere near ready to go down. Mom probably has to go to the washroom and we have an hour’s drive back still.

Chris gets another low angle shot of the river, then we head back to the steps.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \--------
> 
> Suddenly my phone goes crazy with notifications.   
> Charlotte's message catches my attention first.
> 
> 'OMG you never said he was THAT HOT!'
> 
> What is she talking about?
> 
> \---------

No one says anything over the roar of the falls and the river as we head back to the car. I take deep breaths, savouring the crisp, fresh air as much as I can, before we return to home isolation again. Most of the visitors are still above, at the look out posts. Only a few adventurous souls seem to have braved the walk down the icy steps to the bottom of the ravine.  
I try to walk as far around the couples and families as is possible on the small river’s edge. I hold my breath whenever someone walks by too close. It’s a habit I’ll probably have forever now.  
I watch the two kids from earlier climb up the steps and grab the wall that runs along the side, on their way up. I’ll have to sanitize my hands when we get back to the car. And my phone too.

The way up the stairs is a lot easier than the way down was, and I don’t need Chris’ help, though he offers it to me. He looks back every now and then, over his shoulder, to make sure I'm still good. He’s apparently already come to know my habit of clumsiness.

I stop to take a photo of the ascending steps. From this angle, they look like a stairway to some Chinese monastery in the sky, from a Ghibli film or something. I'm not ready to go home, but we have no choice.

Once we’re back in the car, I realize how cold I actually am. My hands are almost numb and my nose literally stings from the cold. Maybe it's good we didn't stay longer. Now isn't the time to catch a bad cold, with COVID out there.  
Mom takes off full speed, tires spinning and kicking up rocks and snow, before we even have our seatbelts on.  
“Mom, we can just stop at-”  
“We’re not stopping anywhere,” Mom snaps. “I’ll make it home.”  
I sigh. Mom takes the home isolation thing very seriously and seeing so many people here at the falls I think has stressed her out. But I'm pretty sure the wind carried all the 'breathing droplets' full of potential COVID germs, away out here in the great outdoors. It’s probably because Auntie works at the hospital and Mom gets all the bad news from her.

I sanitize my hands, with the watermelon hand sanitizer I got from Bath and Body Works before their stores closed for COVID. Chris holds out his hand and I give him some too, then we dig into the lunch Mom packed.

The drive back is melancholy. The fresh air has zapped all of our energy.  
Chris falls asleep again and I look through my photos all the way back, trying to decide which three would be the best to post on Instagram. I can’t post too many at once.  
The best photo by far on my camera roll, is the one of the ascending steps, because Chris is in it, climbing up and looking like a male model, even from behind.

Especially from behind.

I quickly put the photo in a secret folder and look at the others. Mom’s phone has the photos of me and Chris beside the rock.  
“Mom, “I say softly, not wanting to wake Chris. “Can you send me some of your pictures when we get home?”  
“Sure,” she says. “I’ll send you the best ones.”  
Hopefully she means the one she took of me and Chris.   
I lay my head back and close my eyes. Now that we’re heading home, that nervous feeling is returning too as I remember all the things I was worried about before we came out on this day trip.  
If Chris sneaks out again tonight I have to confront him and ask him where he’s going, or what’s going on.

As we near town, a heavy feeling settles onto me. I don’t want to go back home, especially in our part of town. I want to go away for the weekend, to the big city, and stay at a hotel and go to the wave pool, or go on a shopping spree, or just visit the indoor botanical gardens. We just went out for the day, and I still want more.

The houses of our neighbourhood come into view. Even before the Pandemic, our neighbourhood always felt like some eerie Dystopian ghost town to me. All the houses look the same. No one knows anyone’s neighbours, and we're so far away from down town that there’s nowhere to bike to, no local coffee shop or bakery down the road. Just cul-de-sacs and houses that all look the same. Where would Chris even be biking to? Just around the quiet houses that go on and on in every direction?

When we get home, Mom runs into the house and I’m left to wake Chris. I watch him for a second and my chest fills with emotion. He stirs awake before I have a chance to wake him myself and I’m caught staring at him. I quickly start wrapping my earbuds up.  
“We’re home?” Chris says, his voice rough with sleep.  
Home. I smile. Hearing him say that makes my heart skip a beat. And the way he says it too, makes it even better. Hoy-im.   
Maybe home isn’t such a bad place after all.

Chris pulls his hood and cap off of his head and messes up his hair with his fingers, like he's setting his hair free. Then he stretches and gives me a wink when he catches me staring.  
I quickly fumble my way out of the car, dropping my phone and having to crawl under the car to get it.

Chris goes straight downstairs when we get inside and Mom calls me to help her with supper. We have hamburgers and caesar salad, no dressing for me. And Mom talks the whole time about the book she’s narrating for her audiobook job.

Chris keeps glancing out the window to the smoke in the trees and it makes me start worrying again.  
I won't go down to the basement tonight, like I did last night. I’m going to sleep now, and set my alarm for midnight. Then, I’ll wait by the stairs to see if Chris leaves again. I’m not sure exactly what I’m going to say or do, if he does. I haven’t thought that far ahead yet. But I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.   
Chris doesn't say much over supper then heads downstairs when we're done eating.

Mom finally sends me the photo of Chris and I, and it’s perfect. I’m looking at him, my head turned to the side, and he’s looking ahead at the camera, smiling. He has his arm around my shoulders, pulling me snug against him and I have the happiest look on my face. I don’t usually like photos of me, but this one is amazing. I look truly happy. And the winter waterfall behind us looks absolutely gorgeous, like we're in some travel magazine. Too bad I can’t post it.

I put on my pyjamas and crawl into bed, taking my phone with me. I’ve decided on the three photos I want to post; one of the river with the falls in the background, one of me turning to look at the falls, which my mom took as a candid shot, and the one of the steps leading up, but with just Chris’ shoes showing, which I’ve cropped so the rest of him isn’t in the shot.

Suddenly my phone goes crazy with notifications.   
Charlotte's message catches my attention first.

'OMG you never said he was THAT HOT!'

What is she talking about?

Then I see the screenshot in the group chat from Amber. Her mom, who has my mom on Facebook, shared my mom's post with her because I was in it. It’s the selfie that Chris took of himself, with Mom and I on the rock behind him. He’s smiling his million dollar smile, and even with the cap and hood covering his hair, he looks absolutely gorgeous.

I throw my blankets aside and run downstairs.  
“Mom!”  
Mom isn’t in the kitchen. I hear laughing coming from downstairs. Mom is on her way up as I head down and we collide.  
“Eden-”  
“Mom you can’t just share photos of me on Facebook without asking me first!” I yell, before thinking. Then I see Chris at the bottom of the stairs and I feel stupid. I must sound like such a brat to him.

“Which one?” My mom asks, concerned. She pulls out her phone. “This one?” She shows me the photo of us standing on the rock together, that Chris took.  
“No…” I trail off. I can’t tell her to remove the one with Chris in it, with him there listening. “It’s fine,” I say and head back up the stairs. Mom follows me.  
“What’s wrong with the picture?” she goes on. “It’s really nice. You look nice.”  
But that’s not the point and she doesn’t get it.

“It’s fine,” I say, feeling like crying. Mom has ruined everything. Chris was my person, someone I didn’t have to share with the others at school. Kyle didn’t go to the same school as me, but when I showed Charlotte a picture of him, she immediately found him on my Instagram and added him. Soon after that, she was messaging him every day and had his snapchat too. Then those chats turned into long phone conversations, which went so late into the night that she apparently got her phone taken away for a while.   
But Kyle stopped messaging me soon after he started talking to Charlotte. I didn’t really care that much, even though Mom was furious when I told her. She was far more upset about it than I was. But I also wasn’t super attached to Kyle. He was pretty good looking, for someone our age, but I hadn’t built a major attachment to him or anything. But with Chris, it’s been intense since day one, and I didn’t want to have to share him with the others, especially Charlotte. I learned my lesson the first time. Don’t brag about how cute a boy is that you like, or your prettier friends will snatch him away.

I go to my room and lie down, leaving my phone on my desk to charge. It vibrates non-stop with notifications, but I’m too tired to get up and put it on ‘do not disturb.’ My whole body feels beaten up. I don’t think I’ve ever been more tired in my entire life. And yet, I can’t sleep. All I can do is lie there and feel the heaviness on my chest.  
“I took down the photos,” Mom says from behind me. I don't turn around and look at her.  
“It’s okay,” I say.  
“I’ll ask next time, before I post,” Mom continues.  
“Okay,” I manage to say before the tears come. Thankfully I’m facing away from the door and Mom leaves before noticing that I’m crying. I don’t want her to feel bad. It’s not about her posting the picture. It’s more about me realizing that there are girls way better than me, who will probably get Chris’ attention soon, and I’ll be left behind.

I suddenly feel like crying about everything. I hate this stupid COVID virus. I hate that everything is always taken away from me.  
I cry myself to sleep, forgetting to set my alarm for midnight. Then I wake at 1 AM.

It’s dark when I open my eyes and I’m confused.   
Is it morning?   
I get up and grab my phone.   
I have a million notifications, but the one that catches my eyes is a SnapChat notification.

‘BangChan_Chris added you as a friend!’

I click on it and can’t help but giggle at how absolutely accurate Chris’ bitmoji is. It looks exactly like him! It's even wearing a black cap and everything.  
I add him back and look at the snap he sent me. It’s the picture of me and mom on the rock, but the one where I stuck out my tongue at the camera. It’s zoomed in just on me, with the words, ‘can I share this one?’ across the screen.  
I start to reply but then stop, remembering my plan to watch and see if Chris leaves tonight.

I change as fast as I can, putting on extra socks and a long sleeve under my hoodie. Then I tiptoe down the stairs to the main floor. I don’t want to wake mom, but I have to get my jacket and gloves from the closet. I try to do it as quietly as possible, but the closet door creaks anyway.

I poke my head around the corner towards the basement stairs, to see if there are any lights coming from downstairs.  
It’s all dark.  
This time I’m not startled when I see the unmoving lump on Chris’ bed.   
I don’t throw the blankets aside to check, but just push on the top of the lump, to confirm it’s just pillows. 

It is.

Great. I’m too late. I’ll never catch up to him now.  
I hear the sound of the garage door opening and I run up the stairs. My heart beats so fast that I almost pass out.   
He’s leaving now!   
I need to breathe.   
I’ll go out the front door and not through the garage, and then watch and see which way he goes.

I pick up my boots from the back door and carry them to the main level, to the front door.  
It takes me a lot longer than I’d like, to get the front door open while trying to be quiet so I don’t alert Mom But once I'm outside, I don't care about making noise.   
The cold air stings my face and I shiver violently. My boots crunch loudly on the snow as I run down the steps. I have to see where Chris is going.

I hurry to the front of the garage and he’s not there, but there's a narrow track in the snow from the bike.   
I follow it around the end of the block and behind the houses.   
A gravel road with some tire tracks leads towards the trees, and the bike track goes out that way too.   
I can’t see far enough down the road to tell if Chris is still on it, but I know he’s gone that way.

I head back to the house to get my toque and scarf, and to get Mom’s bike.

I’m going to see for myself what is out there, at the Smoke.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \-----------
> 
> I hear them all before I see them. Girls giggling, guys talking. Chris asking questions.
> 
> “No-r! Really? And you didn’t get put in jail?” he asks.
> 
> “Chan, you seriously have never gone skinny dipping before?” a girl says. I instantly dislike her, even though I haven’t even seen her yet. She sounds bubbly like Charlotte, but worse than that, she’s flirting with Chris!
> 
> \-----------

I pedal down the gravel road covered that's covered a thin layer of snow. Mom’s bike isn’t made for all-terrain, like my mountain bike is, so it feels like biking through water. I'm already starting to sweat under my layers. But my nose is an icicle.

This was a mistake. I shouldn't have come out there in this cold, and this late at night.

A cloud moves across the moon and suddenly I can't see anything. I get off the bike and walk instead. It’s slower, but not as physically demanding and this way I'm less likely to ride into the ditch in the dark.

I shiver, but not from the cold. The darkness stretches out in all directions. I can't see the tree line anymore but I know it's in front of me, somewhere. The smell of campfire smoke encourages me to keep moving forward. Eventually I will get there, then I’ll see the fire and it won’t be so dark.

I hear the howls and yipping of coyotes nearby.

This was definitely a mistake.

I look behind me. The edge of town looks really far away now, like a Christmas Village set with toy houses. I biked further than I realized. I grip the handlebars of Mom’s bike tight. There’s a lot of empty space and darkness between here and the tiny line of houses behind me. I can’t go all that way back alone.

The yelps and howls of the coyotes finally die down. They’re just small dogs, I tell myself. They can’t eat me. But even as I try to reassure myself, I realize that I don’t really know how big coyotes are. All I know is that one of them ate a neighbours small dog last year.

I have a better chance of surviving if I get to Chris first and have his protection, than if I go all the way back on my own. I’m short and small, so I probably look like good target for the coyotes' next meal.

I pick up the pace, walking faster now. My heart pounds, making my breathing loud. I take some deep breaths to calm myself. I have to think happy thoughts. I can’t let myself slip into a panic attack. I try to imagine something happy; my room and my comfy bed. But the Chris is there, lying on my bed shirtless and in his pyjama bottoms, wearing his black toque.

My grip slips from the bike and I almost drop it. 

No, I can’t let myself get infatuated with Chris! Just knowing that Charlotte thinks he’s hot, had me in tears for half the night. I’m not good with relationships. They’re not good for my anxiety. And starting a relationship during COVID-19 outbreak is just asking for drama.

The cloud finally passes from in front of the moon and the tree line comes into view again. I’m not far now. The smell of campfire and nighttime helps calm my nerves, bringing back memories of when I was little.

As I approach the trees, I hear voices and a radio playing softly.

My breath catches when I hear Chris' laugh. It reawakens the butterflies in my stomach. But it now there's also an added tightness in my chest along with it. I recognize it as fear. What am I afraid of? I suppose secrets are a secret for a reason, so maybe I’m afraid of what I’ll discover.

I see a well worn path leading into the trees. It is darker in between the trees than out in the field where the moon shines, so I take out my phone to get some light. Why didn’t I think to do this earlier?

I turn on the flashlight feature, but it’s so bright I quickly turn it off again. Someone could easily have seen me through the trees. I don’t know yet if I want them to know I’m here.

I go to my home screen instead and turn my phone around. It’s just enough light to see the path by and not crazy bright. After I round the corner, the trees thin out a bit and I see light from the fire, flickering off the pine trees. I put my phone away.

I hear them all before I see them. Girls giggling, guys talking. Chris asking questions.

“No-r! Really? And you didn’t get put in jail?” he asks.

“Chan, you seriously have never gone skinny dipping before?” a girl says. I instantly dislike her, even though I haven’t even seen her yet. She sounds bubbly like Charlotte, but worse than that, she’s flirting with Chris! Or 'Chan,' as she is apparently calling him. Why is she calling him Chan? I thought he preferred to be called Chris. Unless… I stop. Maybe Chris is a formal name, and he asked me to call him that so we would remain on formal terms, like to make sure we had a platonic relationship.

“No-r,” Chris replies. “I haven’t.” I can tell by the way he says it that he’s smiling.

There is a group outburst of surprise. What? Oh man! You’re missing out bro. You have to go skinny dipping!

“Okay mister,” the annoying girl says. “We’re going skinny dipping, as soon as it’s warm enough.”

The guys whistle and make noises. Someone shushes them loudly.

“We don’t want to be found out.” 

It’s another girl. She sounds older.

I move a bit closer to see if I can see them.

“Who’s going to come all the way out here in the middle of the night?” someone else asks.

“The cops, for one,” the girl replies.

“Hey Chan, buddy, invite me skinny dipping with Amber and you, when you guys go.”

Amber? Amber from school?

The group laughs again, but more softly this time. I inch closer, confident that the darkness in the trees will keep me hidden. I quint towards the firelight, trying to make out the shapes and silhouettes of the people around it. That can’t be Amber, from my grade, from the group chat, could it? Chris is older, like at least eighteen, and the other teens around the fire look older too. It didn’t sound like her. Or maybe she was just more animated than I've ever known her to be.

I see Chris first. He’s beautiful and impossible to miss. He’s wearing his black toque and his eyes are smiling. He’s facing the fire, and facing me, though he doesn't see me. There are at least fifteen or more teens around the fire. My breathing becomes more laboured again. They’re not allowed to meet in groups. It’s against the rules. It’s against the LAW.

I begin to make out the other faces around the fire. Girls are sitting in guys’ laps, or resting their heads against their shoulders, holding hands, flirting. They could easily pass coronavirus between them, in one night, even if just one of them was carrying it. Then what? Some of them would be fine, but they wouldn’t all be fine. A few would end up in intensive care. 

I see Jayson, Amber’s older sister. I know she has asthma. If she caught COVID she could potentially not survive it.

Chris is sitting by himself, while most of the others have coupled off, except for a few. At least he isn’t cozying up to anyone. He could bring COVID home to my house! I tell myself that’s why I’m relieved he’s sitting alone, and not because I would be jealous.

Then I see Amber. 

She’s not coupled off with anyone either. I know she doesn’t have a boyfriend. But why didn’t she say anything in the group chat about all this? She’s talking to Chris! In real life! And she didn't mentioned it at all to anyone. A horrible jealousy circles around inside of me.

Chris’ eyes glisten by the firelight, his attention on Amber. She’s sitting beside him, but in a camping chair that is a few feet away, thankfully. She’s telling him some bogus story about being a dancer in a music video of some famous artist, which I know isn’t true. But Chris looks really impressed. He has no way of knowing she’s lying.

Why does it hurt to see him giving her his full attention? Did I think he’d only ever give me his attention? Like at the falls, when he helped me down the stairway into the ravine? He smiled at me like this too. It feels wrong to see him give that same smile to someone else.

My feet are blocks of ice in my boots now. They pinch painfully, demanding my attention. I pull back, walking Mom’s bike backwards slowly, so that I don’t make any noise trying to turn it around. Fortunately, the radio covers the sounds of my movements and nobody looks over.

Even from the distance I was from the fire, it provided some warmth, so when I return to the worn path in the trees and turn my bike around, my body feels the full impact of the cold around me. The open field is even worse, with a bitter wind biting at my face. But I don't allow myself the luxury of shivering. I want the cold seep into me. I want to feel it, rather than the emotions that are overtaking me. I want to be so cold that I go completely numb. I don’t want to feel anything at all. I hate that they’re breaking the law and now I have to keep this a secret. I hate that Chris is a part of this, after his grandma died of COVID! And I hate seeing him differently now. I thought he was like me, someone who is careful and logical and…

OH NO! I’ve been gone for such a long time! And didn’t tell Mom I left! What if she got up and saw that I was missing?

I start running down the road in the open field, then jump onto the bike. The wind picks up all around me with my speed, and the cold makes its way to my very bones. I can’t feel my fingers or my toes anymore, even though I’m wearing gloves.

My breath fogs out in front of me as I pedal as fast as I can. The road is on a slight hill, going up towards the trees and now down, heading towards town. So it’s easier riding back. The bike picks up speed even with the resistance of the gravel road and snow.

I blink away the tears that come unbidden. I can’t wipe at them, my hands are too numb and untrustworthy to keep me on the bike if I take them off the handlebars. Great, the tears will freeze to my cheeks and give me frost bite. My nose is running too, from cold and from crying. I’m upset with myself, more than anyone else. I shouldn't have come out here and spied on Chris. I don’t want to know that he’s putting Mom and me at risk. I don’t want to keep this secret and have to lie. I don’t want to be mad at Amber now and feel awkward in the group chat from now on. I don’t want to be jealous of her because she has a cool older sister who brings her to illegal gathering and she’s not scared to be rebellious, not scared of COVID, not scared to flirt with Chris and not scared to date him. She’s pretty enough to catch his attention for sure. And judging by the smile on his face around the fire, I think she already has.

I get home with no recollection of how I got there, then put Mom’s bike in the garage. Them I’m back in the house and getting vitamin C candies from the pantry. I preform my tasks like a zombie, too tired to be tired and too cold to be cold. I make myself a chamomile tea and grab 5 more teabags to take upstairs.

Upstairs, I run a bath and throw the teabags into it; my way of steaming my sinuses and healing myself of an upcoming cold. I wonder if Chris is cold. But he was warming himself by the fire and is probably cuddled up to Amber by now.

I get undressed, the shivering suddenly starting up. But the bath thaws me within minutes, and the cold in my bones begins to subside. My muscles relax and I almost fall asleep in the tub, when my mom comes to the door.

“Why are you up so early?” she asks, looking in and squinting into the bright bathroom lights.

Early? “What time is it?” I ask her.

“Five in the morning.”

“I was just cold and couldn’t sleep.”

“I’ll go turn up the heat,” Mom says. “Do you want me to make you an early breakfast?”

“No, I’m going to try and go back to sleep, now that I’m warmed up,” I say. I can already feel the guilt building up inside of me. I can’t tell her about where I was. I’m just glad she got up now and not an hour earlier.

“Okay.” Mom hesitates a moment. I know she wants to ask if I’m okay, but she doesn’t want me to think she’s always worried about me, but I know she is. We’re both a lot more wary about catching colds now, or the flu; now that COVID is in the community. A cold could compromise our immune systems at just the wrong time.

“I’m fine, Mom,” I tell her.

“Did you have fun at the falls yesterday?” she asks, a hopeful look on her face.

My throat tightens at the thought of it and tears instantly sting at my eyes.

“Yea,” I manage to say. “It was fun.”

Mom hesitates a moment longer, then leaves. Great, now she’s worried about me for sure. I let the tears roll down my face, then flinch as the salty moisture stings my cheeks.

A few minutes later I get out of the tub and look at my face in the mirror. My cheeks are chapped and red, like a rug burn that will likely dry and crack if I’m not careful.

I put lots of cream on my body then get into warm pyjamas and fuzzy socks. Then I climb in my bed, under my covers, and fall asleep with my blanket over my head.

I wake to blissful heat, too comfortable to move, but needing to pee.

Everything from the night before seems like a dream. Did it really happen? No matter how crappy everything seems now, at least I’m warm. I’m so tired of the cold. I never want it to be winter ever again. It’s always winter here. Even in the spring, and the fall. It is only summer for the blink of an eye, then winter again.

I pull the covers off my head and take a breath of cool, clean air. The room is bright with noonday sun and I hurry out of bed, needing to go to the bathroom.

The hurt I felt last night, when I saw Chris at the fire, isn't as potent this morning. But it’s still putting my stomach into knots.

I’m just going to pretend I don’t know he went to an illegal gathering last night. I’m going to do my online classes this morning and… oh shoot, did I miss class?

I grab my phone from where it is charging at my desk and look at the date. Sunday. At least I didn’t miss classes. And it’s already 1 pm!

I hurry to the bathroom then return to put my hair in a french braid. I’m not going to let this get me down. There’s enough going on in the world right now to worry about, without me having to worry about some silly campfire get-together.

I stop and look at the frost bite on my cheeks in the mirror.

No. This isn’t fair. 

Chris can’t decide for Mom and I what risks we should take in this Pandemic. Mom has low iron and a thyroid condition. She’s over 40. This virus could make her really sick, and there’s no cure. What will I do if she gets hospitalized? Or worse…

I shake my head to dispel the thought.

Suddenly I don't care about Amber, or whether or not I'm brave enough to admit that I'm falling in love with someone. 

I’m just pissed off. 

Chris is being so selfish, putting my family in danger. We don’t even see Auntie, or my cousins or even Grandma, because of coronavirus. We haven’t seen them in weeks. And now Chris is out there risking our safety, for some strangers?

That's not cool. I storm out of my room, not bothering to change out of my pyjamas. I don’t care if Chris is sleeping or tired today. I’m going to go down there and give him a piece of my mind...


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \------
> 
> I run out of the room. “Mom?” I yell.   
> I go straight into the downstairs bathroom and wash my hands, right up to the elbows.  
> “Mom! Mom!” I keep yelling as I scrub.
> 
> I hear Mom’s hurried footsteps thumping down the stairs.  
> “What is it?” she says, sounding worried. “Eden?” Where are you?”  
> I finish drying my hands and hurry out of the bathroom.  
> “Chan has a fever,” I say. The words get stuck in my throat and it’s the only thing I can manage to say.
> 
> \------

Chris’ door is closed. I shouldn’t just barge in. But I have to talk to him.  
Before I can decide what to do I hear Chris cough.  
He’s awake.

“Chris?” I say, standing close to the door.  
He coughs again and I open the door slowly.

The blinds are drawn closed and the room is dark. Chris is huddled up in his blankets.  
“Are you awake?” I ask, even though he obviously is.  
He mumbles something that I don’t understand. I move closer. It's impossible to stay angry when Chris seems so tired. But I still want to tell him that he’s putting us in danger by going to meet with a group of teens at the fire.

“Chris, I need to talk to you,” I say, sounding more confident than I feel.  
When he doesn’t respond, I go closer and that's when I notice he’s breathing too fast, for someone who is half asleep and laying in bed. He also looks really flushed, though it’s hard to tell in the dim lighting. The basement is chilly, and even all his blankets wouldn’t make him so warm that sweat would form on his forehead. His arm is resting outside of the blanket and I touch his hand, the way my mom does when checking for a fever. He doesn’t even react in surprise. His hand is really warm. I touch his forehead, he’s burning up.

I run out of the room. “Mom?” I yell.   
I go straight into the downstairs bathroom and wash my hands, right up to the elbows.  
“Mom! Mom!” I keep yelling as I scrub.

I hear Mom’s hurried footsteps thumping down the stairs.  
“What is it?” she says, sounding worried. “Eden?” Where are you?”  
I finish drying my hands and hurry out of the bathroom.  
“Chan has a fever,” I say. The words get stuck in my throat and it’s the only thing I can manage to say.

Mom heads into Chris’ room then comes out a second later.  
“Upstairs,” she says, pointing. I trip over my own feet in my urgency to comply. When we're upstairs, Mom goes to the pantry and literally starts throwing things over her shoulder in her frenzied search for something.  
“Mom-”  
“Where did we put the Tylenol?” she asks.  
“You have an intolerance to Tylenol, remember?”  
“Yes, but you have some probably, don’t you?”  
“I don’t think so. You always say it’s useless and doesn’t even bring down inflammation or really do anything-”

“But I’m sure we had some…”  
She goes back to ransacking the pantry.   
Then suddenly she’s headed for the front door.  
“I’m going to the store,” she announces.

“I’m going with you!” I say.  
She looks like she’s about to argue, then nods.  
I put on my shoes while Mom grabs disposable gloves and sani-wipes.

On the drive to the drugstore, Mom is on hold with Health Link, while I sit silently in the passenger seat, trying to breathe through the crushing guilt of not staying home with Chris. But I can’t go in his room now anyway, not until we’re sure…

We pull into the drugstore parking lot. There's a relatively large amount of cars at the drugstore, for a city in lockdown. But then again, there’s nowhere else to go than the grocery stores and drugstores.

Inside, we go straight to the Tylenol. I touch nothing at all, as I’ve learned to do since all this started. The cashier makes Mom scan her own items, and no cash is accepted. Mom taps her card and we leave, having touched nothing but the Tylenol box.

Back in the car, we sanitize our hands and Mom wipes down the Tylenol box and her phone with a sani-wipe. She throws her gloves and the sani-wipe into the back seat, which is littered with a pile of other gloves and discarded sani-wipes, and then sets her phone in its holder. We’ve been on hold with Health Link this whole time and no one has picked up yet. I don’t have my phone because I’m not allowed to bring it outside of the house, until the virus threat is officially over.

We say nothing on the drive home. The sound of someone giving information about COVID symptoms on Health Link, and the sporadic hold music, entertains us until we get back home.  
It’s snowing again and we run to the front door, having forgotten our jackets in our rush to pick up the Tylenol. Mom wipes down the front door handles and we wash our hands again, once inside. Then she gets a glass of water and heads downstairs with the Tylenol.

I don’t think I’m allowed to go down, so I wait at the top of the stairs, wringing my hands and unable to think. I don’t even want to be able to think right now, because then I’ll have to think about the probability that Chris could have COVID.  
I hear talking from downstairs; Mom’s voice and Chris’ too. He coughs again and then mumbles something.  
I run up to my room, then grab a change of clothes and start a bath.

Two hours later, I’m in my room staring out my window at nothing in particular when Mom comes in.  
“I’m trying to keep my room quarantined,” I say to her.  
Mom sighs. “I think it’s just a bad cold-”  
“But you don’t know that,” I reply.  
“The Tylenol brought his fever down and he’s having no trouble with breathing.”  
“It starts in the throat,” I say.  
“He doesn’t have a sore throat.”

There is a moment of silence and then Mom continues. “I know you’re scared, but I don’t think Chan has Coronavirus, and if he does, then it’s too late already for us. He would have had it at least two days ago already, with no symptoms at the start, even up to two weeks before symptoms start. We would both have been exposed already and we’ll know in the next two weeks if we are. There’s no point in isolating from Chan. Unless we started days ago.”  
I swallow hard.  
Oh no! My throat hurts!  
“I think he caught a cold from going to the falls,” Mom continues. “I should have never-” she stops and I look up to see that she is blinking back tears.  
“It’s not your fault,’ I quickly say. “That’s not why he got sick.”  
“It was too cold to be outside all day.” She stops and composes herself, but seeing her this worried scares me. “Go do your homework,” she says softly, turning to leave.

“Mom,” I say, stopping her. “What are we going to do?”  
“Nothing,” she replies. “He might just have a cold. Either way, there’s nothing we can do.”  
“Even if it’s COVID?”  
“If it is, then we’ve already been exposed, so we should try and be there for him. They don’t have enough tests to get him tested. But it doesn’t matter what the results would be anyway. It’s only for statistics purposes. He just has to stay home and heal. There is no cure. If he can’t breathe then we can take him to emergency, but other than that, it’s just us at home.”  
I swallow hard and can’t form a response.  
“He’ll be fine,” mom says. "I'll give him some hot tea. I read on Facebook that heat can sometimes kill the virus in the throat, before it makes its way down."  
I nod and Mom leaves.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \---------
> 
> I don’t intend to sit too close but the downward slope of the bed draws me towards him, because he's heavier than me. But moving over now would seem too rude. I try to lean away, so as not to crowd him.
> 
> “Are you scared to sit beside me?” he asks.  
> Yes, I think. But not because you’re sick.
> 
> When I don’t respond he looks over at me, then looks down to my cheeks.  
> “What happened? Is it a sunburn?” He brushes my cheek with the back of his hand and I stop breathing.  
> “It’s… frostbite,” I say.
> 
> \----------

At 6pm I can no longer stand to procrastinate doing my homework, so I go down to the kitchen to grab supper.   
Homework isn’t the only thing I’m avoiding. I’m scared of seeing Chris, in case he’s really sick and it will hurt to see him that way.

“Chris!”   
When I come down the stairs I find him sitting at the kitchen table, looking surprisingly normal. I had already been envisioning him with a respirator, lying sick in a hospital bed and barely holding onto life.  
“Hey,” he says, sounding tired but looking okay. He sets down his sandwich, which he was halfheartedly eating at the kitchen table when I arrived.

I walk over cautiously. There’s another sandwich, plastic wrapped, on a plate.  
“That’s for you-r,” Chris says. Then he coughs and takes a drink of water. "Your mum made it."

I sit down in a chair across from him. It’s dark blue outside the windows; everything is covered in snow and in the dim blue of dusk. I can’t see as far as the smoke, but I don’t think the fire is burning today. Chris isn’t looking out the window for once.

“My mom thinks you caught a cold from going to the Falls yesterday,” I say.  
I watch him to see his reaction. His shoulders slump and he looks so sad that I feel like a jerk.  
"I mean, she's just worried about you," I add.

He sets down his half eaten sandwich. “I went out last night and it was too cold,” he says.  
I don’t reply but just hold my breath. Is he going to tell me about going to the fire now?  
“To the smoke,” he says, gesturing to the window.

My stomach tightens. I can see on his face how ashamed he feels.   
I can’t take this anymore.  
“I know,” I confess.

Chris looks up in surprise.

“I followed you last night,” I continue, squirming uncomfortably in my seat. It’s embarrassing to admit, that you followed someone. But I want to be honest too.   
All of a sudden, tears well in my eyes and I can’t stop them. “You put us at risk,” I say.   
I get up quickly, not wanting to hear his reply, because I know whatever it is, I’ll just start crying.  
I run up the stairs and I think Chris calls my name, but I’m not sure.

An hour later, I’m still in the same position on the floor in my room, that I was in an hour ago when I got here. Mom steps in and almost trips over me.  
“What did you say to Chan?” she says.  
“What?” I sit up.  
“He’s leaving.”  
"He's leaving what?"  
“Leaving us.” Mom has her hands on her hips and an angry look on her face. “He won’t tell me why. He just says he’s sick and he should quarantine himself. I tried to tell him it’s probably not COVID, and even if it is, we’d already be exposed, days ago. But he wouldn’t listen.”

My heart pounds so hard I can’t catch my breath. It’s my fault. He thinks I hate him and want him to leave. Or maybe he really wants to go to the fire again, and he knows he can’t if he continues to live here.  
“I’ll talk to him,” I say to Mom. I get up so fast that I’m dizzy. Mom sighs loudly but doesn’t respond.

Downstairs, Chris is already packing. He seems to have found new energy. His nose is pink from blowing it and he has bags under his eyes.   
He doesn’t smile when he sees me, the way he usually does.  
“You’re leaving?” I ask, stupidly.  
He continues packing. “You were right,” he says, not looking at me. “I put you at risk.”

“But…” I begin to panic. What do I say? This is my fault. “Where are you going to live?”  
Suddenly a thought comes to me. What if he’s going to live with Amber? She must have offered.  
“Don’t go,” I say. Don’t go live with Amber! I think.

Chris sits down on his bed. “I don’t want to be a burden here,” he says. “I know you’re not happy I’m here.”  
That’s what he thinks?  
“No! You’re not a burden!” I fumble for words. He’s listening; I need to say the right thing. I need to tell him I want him to stay. But why do I want him to stay so badly? Wouldn’t it be easier with just Mom and I here? And what if he starts going out to the fire again every night? “We… I…” I really do want him to stay, no matter what happens. “I like that you’re here.”

Chris lays onto his back and covers his eyes with his hands.

“You can.. Go to the fire,” I say. I can’t believe I’m saying this. I feel so conflicted. I don’t want him to go to the smoke, but I also don’t want him to leave forever.

He lowers his hands. “I have a cold, or… something.” He sits up. "I won't be going there."

I’m still standing at his bedroom door and really need to sit down, but there are no chairs in his room.

As though reading my mind, Chris reaches out his hand to me and says, “come sit down, please.”

The butterflies in my stomach leap into action and I almost say no because I'll have heart palpitations if I sit close to him. But if I don’t, he’ll think it’s because I’m scared of getting sick. I'm not. I'm scared of liking him too much. Now I know for sure. It's so obvious. I’m easily jealous; I always have butterflies in my stomach when he's around. I want him to stay even if it means risking me and Mom's life. I’ve never been this way before. It’s scary. Maybe even more scary than getting sick. If he doesn’t like me the same way I like him, I’ll just get hurt.

Chris’ hand begins to lower and I realize I’ve waited too long to accept his invitation. I hurry over and sit beside him on the bed. I don’t intend to sit too close but the downward slope of the bed draws me towards him, because he's heavier than me. But moving over now would seem too rude. I try to lean away, so as not to crowd him.

“Are you scared to sit beside me?” he asks.  
Yes, I think. But not because you’re sick.

When I don’t respond he looks over at me, then looks down to my cheeks.  
“What happened? Is it a sunburn?” He brushes my cheek with the back of his hand and I stop breathing.  
“It’s… frostbite,” I say.

He looks so confused that I laugh a bit. Then, before I can think about it too much, I lay my head on his shoulder to hide my gross, frost bitten cheeks.  
“Why did you ask me to call you Chris, when everyone else calls you Chan?” I ask. I can’t help it. I need to know. His warm shoulder has made me lose my logical thinking.  
He stiffens and my chest tightens in worry.  
“Is it a more formal way of saying your name?” I ask, making it easier for him.  
I lift my head off of his shoulder, but he puts his arm around me and draws me against his side before I can get away.

“No-r," he says. "Chan is the more formal way to say my name. Chris is the… personal way.”

My heart pounds wildly. There’s no place for my arm to go, so it automatically slips behind his lower back, bringing us closer. Chris brings his other arm around to pull me into a hug and my legs automatically lift up to rest across his lap. His arms feel strong and sure, his body warm. He must feel my heart beating out of my chest, against his. I close my eyes, breathing in the soft musk scent of his hair. I just want to melt into him. We’d be able to do an even closer hug if I moved my one leg to his other side and straddled him.

I pull away, scared of my own desire to get that close. We’re already about as close as two human beings can get, while still wearing clothes. How much closer do I want?

Mom’s footsteps thud gently down the stairs and I quickly jump away from Chris. He looks confused at first, probably not hearing Mom’s approach, but I’m conditioned to hearing her coming up or down the stairs. When she comes into the room, Chris sits up straighter and composes himself.

She looks from me to Chris for a second, probably noticing that we look guilty.  
“How are you feeling, Chan?” she asks.  
“Tired,” he says, running a hand through his hair.

“You look flushed.” Mom frowns. She walks over and checks his hands. Thankfully she doesn’t check his feet, like she does to me. She says fever is apparent in the hands and feet, not the forehead. “Take another Tylenol, just in case,” she says. “You don’t have a fever right now, though. Maybe you should rest. You don’t need to leave right this moment, do you?”  
“No-r,” Chris says. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to stay.”

“Of course it’s okay,” Mom says, softening. She sits down on the other side of Chris on the bed and puts a hand on his shoulder. “We don’t mind having you at all. And it’s my fault you caught this cold, taking you guys out for the day when it’s still snowing and cold-”  
“No-r, it’s my fault,” Chris says. “I-”  
“Chris went for a bike ride by himself last night!” I say loudly, wanting to drown out what he was about to say. We can’t tell Mom about the Smoke and that Chris has been meeting with others illegally. She’s an adult, she will call the cops. Which I personally wouldn’t mind, but I don’t want Chris in trouble and I know he wouldn’t want that group to be disbanded, illegal or not.

Chris looks over at me with a questioning glance. I shake my head slightly as if to say ‘no,’ hoping he gets my meaning.  
He turns back to Mom. “Yeah. That's right. I couldn’t sleep, so I went out for a bike ride at night. I should have told you I was leaving.”

“It’s not safe out at night,” Mom says. “There’s a large pack of Coyotes on this side of town. They’ve been making their way towards town, closer each day.”  
If she only knew how close I’d come to them last night, I’d be grounded for life!  
“Just bike during the day,” she continues, getting up. “And when it’s warmer outside.” She starts to leave, then turns to me. “Eden, will you help me with something in the kitchen?” 

Uh oh. She wants to have a ‘talk.’

I get up too and follow her.   
Chris grabs my hand for a second. I turn back to look at him, surprised, but he’s already let my hand go and is laying back on the bed again.

My butterflies are on overdrive and I allow myself a second to take in his long legs and the small bit of skin showing below his shirt and above his jeans; his shirt having lifted up when he set his hands behind his head.   
I hurry out of the room


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \---------
> 
> “Stop,” I try to say, but the laughing is draining me of all my energy and I can’t even lift my arms.  
> We’re both on the floor and there’s a moment of silence as our laughter is replaced by desperate gasps for air.   
> “It’s not that funny,” I say between breaths.
> 
> Chris sits up and picks up Draculaura again. He looks at me and we both burst out laughing again. This time Chris puts his palm on my mouth to stop my giggles, but his hand is so big it covers my entire face. I push him away and grab a pillow from his perfectly made bed. I smother his face with it, but he’s stronger than me and pins me down in two seconds flat.
> 
> We breathe heavily, Chris on top of me and me unable to move. He looks down at my lips and I hold my breath.
> 
> \----------

“Are you sure you want him to stay?” Mom asks me once we’re upstairs. She’s whispering, even though we’re in her room now.   
I look around. She’s put up motivational quotes on the walls. And her walk-in closet ‘audio-booth’ is littered with printed off pages of script everywhere.

“Yes,” I say. Why is she suddenly uncertain about having Chris stay here?  
“Okay, well I don’t want you downstairs alone with him.”  
“What?” I turn to her. “Why? What do you mean? I can’t go down and play my video games anymore?”  
“No, I mean… in his room.”

I don’t respond. I see where this conversation is headed. I want to say Chris is not interested in me in that way, but now I’m not as sure. Something about the way he grabbed my hand at the last minute, before I left his room, makes me wonder…

“Or at least leave the door fully open,” Mom continues.  
“Mom,” I roll my eyes. “Nothing’s going to happen.” I turn away so she doesn’t see my cheeks flush.  
“He’s twenty-three, Eden.”  
“What?” I whip around to look at her. Is she serious? “No he’s not.”  
“Yes, he is.” Mom crosses her arms. “He’s renting the basement. How old did you think he was? Did you ever ask him?”  
“Well… I just assumed he was a teenager. He looks and acts like one. I thought he was like 17.”  
“A 17 year old wouldn’t be able to rent out our basement.”  
“But I thought he lived with his grandmother.”  
“He did. He was supporting her and helping her pay her mortgage.”  
“Wow.” My heart squeezes in my chest. He’s such a caring person.   
But no wonder he has been careful around me. I’m only 15. And so is Amber!

“Don’t look so surprised,” Mom says. Then she begins to laugh.  
“Does he know how old I am?” I ask.  
She stops laughing immediately. “I don’t know, I never thought to tell him. But I will certainly tell him.”  
I roll my eyes and pretend I don’t care, but inside I’m panicking. I hope she forgets to tell him. I have an idea.

“He already knows,” I lie. “I told him what grade I was in. And I think he has a girlfriend that he video messages with every night.” I hate lying to Mom, but I really don’t want her to worry about me and Chris. Or maybe I don’t want her to interfere. I need to see where this thing could go, with Chris. It’s just a small lie.  
“He does?”  
“Yes.”  
“Okay, well that’s a good thing.”  
We’re silent for a moment and then I decide to get on my mom’s good side, to get her off the trail of suspecting Chris and I of liking each other. “Want to watch some more Glee episodes?” I ask.  
“Sure!” Mom says, brightening up. “I’ll make hot chocolate.”

\--------

It’s dark outside again. I’ve been trying to ignore it, but now it’s 2am and I’m wide awake.   
I look up at the twinkly lights Mom and I put up to help me sleep, so I’m not in complete darkness at night. They hang down from the ceiling. I used to pretend I was at the winter formal, looking up at the lights, but there was never anyone who I’d want to go to the dance with… until now.

A loud gust of wind smashes against my window, startling me. The Chinook is here. By tomorrow all the snow will be gone. It’s the only thing I like about living in Southern Alberta, the warm Chinook wind. But it keeps me awake at night.   
I turn onto my side in bed. Will we even have a winter formal this year? Will all of this be over by Christmas for sure?

A cough from downstairs catches my attention.   
I sit up. Is Chris still up? My heart begins to race, remembering what Mom said. I can’t be alone with him in his room. But the kitchen isn’t his room.

I kick my blankets off and hurry to put a bra on. I want to look sexy in my spaghetti strap tank top, but not too sexy. A bra is a must. Besides, I’m still not sure how Chris actually feels about me. He could be reaching out to me for physical contact, which could still just be a friendship thing, or a desperation thing. For all I know, he likes one of the older girls out at the smoke and that's why he always goes back. The thought is sobering, but I'm still happy he's awake. I hate feeling alone at night while Mom sleeps.

I smooth down my hair then take one last look in the mirror before I head downstairs. My pink tank top looks cute, but almost like I'm trying too hard. There's no time to pick something else. Chris might go downstairs, then I won't be able to see him because I'm not allowed to be with him 'alone in his room.'

I tiptoe down the stairs and stop on the bottom step.   
I see Chris before he sees me. He’s in a snug, white t-shirt and pyjama bottoms, standing at the kitchen counter preparing a cup of tea. His hair hangs in his eyes and his t-shirt sleeves hug his arm muscles tight.

I sit down on the bottom step to watch him. He’s beautiful. If he’s 23 then there’s no way he’d be interested in Amber. The thought is comforting.  
Chris coughs again, covering his mouth with his forearm, then he takes a swig of cough medicine straight from the bottle. I stifle a laugh, knowing how horrified Mom would be if she saw this. He puts the cap back on the cough medicine then picks up his tea, taking a sip. When he turns with his mug in hand, he spots me and his eyebrows lift.

I get up and give him an awkward wave. How do I explain I wasn’t spying on him, when I was?  
He walks over in a few long strides and looks down at me.  
“You couldn’t sleep?” he asks in a whisper, leaning over his tea. The smell of peppermint on his breath makes me want to kiss him.

I clear my throat. “I never like to sleep,” I say softly  
“Why?” He looks so intent on hearing my answer that I blush. The wind continues to rage outside as he waits for me to reply.  
I shrug. “I guess I don’t like the dark.”

Chris considers this. “But if you are sleeping, you don’t see the dark.”  
“True,” I respond. "It’s too hard to explain. I just don’t feel safe when it’s dark out, so it’s hard to fall asleep when I don’t feel safe."   
I look up at Chris. Is this possibly the dumbest thing he’s ever heard? How old am I, five?

He puts an arm around my shoulders and moves me along with him, heading to the back patio doors.  
“What are you doing?” I ask, tensing. I don't like to be outside at night, but I let him lead me anyway.  
He sets his tea down on a counter without letting me go, then opens the back door.   
The wind pulls at the door angrily but Chris keeps a tight grip on it.  
“Wow. Will there be a storm?” he asks me.   
I shake my head no. “It’s the Chinook.”  
“Warm wind,” Chris says.   
He lets go of me and closes the door quietly behind us. 

My bare feet are cold on the wooden patio, but it is dry and the wind is warm. My hair flies in all directions, blinding me. Normally that would make me irritated, but tonight I just laugh. Suddenly I feel Chris’ hands in my hair, trying to help me get it out of my face.   
When we’ve finally got it under control, Chris has a handful of my hair clasped at the nape of my neck and his heavy arm rests on my shoulder.  
I feel more alive than I’ve ever felt. The warm winds smell sweet and magical, blowing against my bare shoulders. Chris looks down at my lips and my heart hammers in my chest.  
I wait and his eyes meet mine again.   
He tugs on my ponytail and tilts my head up. “Look up,” he says. And I do.   
Above, the sky is clear and the stars are out, scattered randomly across the black expanse.   
I see the big dipper, but we’re too close to nearby streetlights to see the milky way or other constellations.

A chill runs through me and I shiver. Chris spins me around to face away from him then pulls me against his chest.   
I’m too stunned to respond. He tilts my chin up again, his arm across my chest now, and my head rests back against his shoulder.  
“See the stars?” he whispers into my hair. His warm breath sends more shivers through me.  
I nod, but no other part of me can move.

He lets go of my chin and embraces me from behind, wrapping both arms around my chest.  
“It’s not dark outside,” he says. “There are always stars. Even when you can’t see them, they are there.”  
I close my eyes and lean into him. I want this moment to last forever. My bare feet burn with cold, but somehow it’s turned into a warm heat. My whole body is tingles with the heat.

A light goes on across the back alleyway and I bristle, wondering if someone is watching us.  
Chris gives me a light squeeze then lets me go. When he pulls away, my back is instantly cold in his absence.

“Come on," he says over the wind. "I have something to show you." His blonde hair blows into his eyes and I reach up to push his bangs aside. He takes my hand and leads me back inside.  
A gust of wind forces its way into the house before Chris can get the door closed behind us, and it knocks a plastic cup off the kitchen counter. The cup bounces, flips and clatters across the hardwood floor.  
Chris and I look at each other.  
Then we both hurry to the basement stairs.  
But it's too late, I hear Mom’s steps coming down the steps. I shove Chris back up the stairs.  
“I’ll wait for you downstairs,” I whisper. "Just go tell her you were making tea or something. She'll think someone is breaking into the house."   
The feel of his firm muscles under my fingertips is heavenly and I let my hands linger a moment.   
He nods and goes back up, leaving my fingers aching to touch him again.

“Chan?” Mom says.  
“Hello,” Chan replies. I pull back into the shadows.  
“How are you feeling? You can’t sleep?” Mom sounds tired and I feel bad for waking her.  
“I opened the window and the wind blew the cup on the floor,” he says. “It’s so-r windy.”  
Mom sighs. “Yes. It gives me headaches. But at least all the snow will be gone by tomorrow.”  
"The wind will clean all the snow?”  
“Yes. And it will be warmer, for now.”

I can’t see them from where I am but I wait and listen.  
“Oh, you made tea,” Mom says.  
“Yes.”  
Poor Chris, he sounds uncomfortable. He must know Mom will get mad if she sees us together this late at night.  
“Alright, well I heard a noise and was wondering who was downstairs. I guess I’m still getting used to having an extra house guest.”  
“I will try to be more quiet,” Chris says.  
“It’s fine. Is there anything you need? To help you sleep?”  
“No-r. Some water is fine. I going back downstairs.”

There is a moment of silence then I hear Mom say, “Oh, Chan?”  
“Yes?” he replies.  
“My daughter… She’s been lonely these past few weeks, not being able to see any of her friends. But I don’t want her to get too close.”  
I cringe. No, Mom, don’t say it!  
“I mean," she continues. "We don’t know exactly what you’re sick with and I wouldn't want her to get sick."  
“I understand,” Chris says.  
“She says you have a girlfriend back in Korea?"

My stomach drops. Oh no.  
“She does?” Chris says.  
There is a second of silence. The worst second of my life.   
“I mean… yes, Kamilla," Chris says.  
Kamilla? Who the heck is Kamilla?

“Well I’m sorry you aren’t able to be with her right now," Mom says. "But I’m glad you’re safe. Have a good night.”  
“Thank you. You as well.”

I’m trapped.   
I can’t face Chris now, after what my mom said. But there’s no way to escape to my room. The only way to go is down. And who is Kamilla?

Chris comes down the stairs and I go ahead of him to the basement.  
He flips on a light and I shut my eyes against the glare, feeling more exposed than I’ve ever felt. But there's nowhere to hide.

“Oh, sorry,” he says, then flips the light back off. I laugh. I can’t help it, all my nervous energy and tiredness is making me giddy.  
“Come to my room,” Chris says and something inside of me does a little flip.  
I know this is exactly what Mom said not to do, but how can I say no to that?

He turns on the lights in his room and this time my eyes are prepared. His bed is made and everything is neat and tidy. Then I notice a bin on the floor, the lid off. It’s one of my bins from the storage room, with board games and Barbies in it. 

“Omgosh, what is this doing here?” I say, horrified. I grab the bin lid and put it back on.  
“Shhh,” Chris says with a lopsided grin that takes my breath away. “Your Mom will hear-r-us.”  
He gets down on the ground and takes the lid off again. “This is so-r aw-r-some,” he says, lifting up one of my rock star barbies. My face flushes.  
“They’re old," I quickly say. How in the world did he find this bin?

“Look!” Chris says. “She’s got a guitar and…” he digs around in the bin. “A whole drum set?”  
I’m not sure how to feel. I’m horrified but he looks so happy, like a kid in a candy store. I don’t think he’s being sarcastic, at least.  
“Is this a guitar-r-amp?” he asks, pulling out my rock star barbie’s amp.

I kneel beside him and take the amp, then connect the cord to the guitar. “If you push this button on the amp it will play this dumb song.”   
I hit the button and a guitar riff plays.  
“Woah-r! Cool!” Chris takes the guitar and does his best to put it onto my Barbie, Tammy. It's not the name she came with but I renamed her when I first got her. She’s in her underwear and missing a skirt, but she has a flashy top on at least. And her hair is all tangled. I dig into the bin to find the small box of extra clothes and shoes and hair accessories I know I have in there somewhere.  
“What were you doing going through my stuff?” I ask Chris.  
“I’m sorry,” he says sheepishly, giving up on trying to make Tammy hold the guitar properly. “This lid was off and I saw-r the games." He takes out the Operation board game. “I have never played this before but I have seen this on television.”

I smile. “It is actually a really annoying game,” I say. “And it is too loud. Mom will hear us.”  
Chris nods and turns his attention back to Tammy. “I like her make-up,” he says.  
“Me too.” I find the clothes box and scatter the clothes on the floor, looking for a mini skirt I want to put on Tammy.

“Woah-r!” Chris digs through the pile. “Look!” he lifts up a wig that goes with one of my specialty monster high dolls. He tries to put it on Tammy’s head.  
“It’s for a different doll.” I find Draculaura and show him. She has a couple limbs missing and an arm gone. They’re all in the bin somewhere.  
Chris laughs so hard suddenly that I'm worried Mom will hear us. I push my hand against his mouth, but he falls onto his back and keeps laughing.  
“Shhhh,” I say, climbing onto him and trying to cover his mouth. He nods rapidly. "Okay-r, Okay," he says. I let him go.  
“Sorry, sorry," He tries to catch his breath.  
“You’re sounding very Canadian,” I say. I pick up Draculaura again and Chris starts his laughing fit all over. The harder he tries not to laugh the more he does it and soon I’m laughing too.  
“Stop,” I try to say, but the laughing is draining me of all my energy and I can’t even lift my arms.  
We’re both on the floor and there’s a moment of silence when our laughter is replaced by desperate gasps for air.   
“It’s not that funny,” I say between breaths.

Chris sits up and picks up Draculaura again. He looks at me and we both burst out laughing again. This time Chris puts his palm on my mouth to stop my giggles, but his hand is so big it covers my entire face. I push him away and grab a pillow from his perfectly made bed. I smother his face with it, but he’s stronger than me and pins me down in two seconds flat.

We breathe heavily, Chris on top of me and me unable to move. He looks down at my lips and I hold my breath.  
Then he climbs off of me and I sit up slowly, my body weak from laughter and hormones. Now the room seems too silent, without our laughter. I begin to clean up the Barbie clothes, looking for the skirt as I put each item back into the small box.

“What kind of toys did you play with as a kid?” I ask, in an attempt to break the silence.  
“I never had time to play,” Chris says.  
I want to ask him more but I don’t want to pry.  
He takes a Barbie dress and tries to put it on Draculaura, but her other arm comes off.  
He looks at me with wide eyes. “I'm so-r sorry, Mate!” he says.  
I don't respond, then we both burst out laughing at the same time.  
"What is this doll?" Chris says. "So poorly made."  
I shake my head no but I'm laughing too hard to explain to him that monster high dolls' arms and legs are supposed to come off.

My phone vibrates in my back pocket and I ignore it, but then it keeps going and I realize I’m getting a call.   
At three o-clock in the morning.  
I look at my phone.   
It’s Mom.  
I consider not answering it, but I know I have to.

“Hello?”  
“Come upstairs,” Mom says, so calmly that a shiver runs up my spine.

Chris isn’t paying attention, but trying to put Draculaura’s arm back on.  
I sigh.  
“Okay,” I say, then hang up.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \------
> 
> Mom ignores me and I think of something brilliant I could do while I don’t have my phone at home.   
> I set the basket down. “I’ll be right back,” I say, then run off to get a box of cupcake mix.   
> Grandma always used to say, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.   
> I’m going to make the best double chocolate cupcakes for Chris, ever!
> 
> \------

I hug my seal stuffie and stare at my cell phone, waiting for Chris to reply. We’ve exchanged 13 snaps so far. Chris started with a picture of Draculaura with a chalk outline around her like she’d been murdered, then other cute snaps of him just chilling. I was so tempted to screenshot them but I didn’t want him to know, so I didn’t.   
My replies are a lot less interesting, but my last one actually my face in it, with a filter, and he hasn’t replied. I hug my stuffie tighter. I wish I could think of something funny to send. I’m just not a funny person.

The wind blows in through my open window and it smells like spring outside. We never get a real spring. But maybe now that Mother Nature has had time to heal, with everyone being in lockdown, we might get nice weather before summer comes.  
My phone dings and I immediately check the snap. It’s not an image this time but a message from Chris.  
‘How long are you grounded for?’

I smile. He wants to hang out with me!  
‘I don’t know. Mom is so mad, she’s not talking to me >_< ‘   
I guess that’s not entirely true. She’s just busy working on her Voice Over stuff. But she is super mad.   
‘How can you be grounded, during a lockdown?’ Chris adds a string of laughing emojis.  
‘Lol. I think I can only go downstairs for food’

Chris sends me another snap, this time a video of him doing a backflip off the side of the bed, then a pretty hot dance move.  
I can’t say what I’m thinking, that he’s got the sexiest body on the planet, so I write,  
‘Wow! I could never do that! And I love the music too’  
‘I made it ;) ‘  
‘WHAT?’  
I sit up, thoroughly impressed. He makes music?  
‘Yeah,’ he writes back. ‘On my computer’  
I wish I could replay the snap so I can listen to it again. It was so good!

Suddenly my door opens and I tuck my phone away guiltily, even though I’m not doing anything wrong.   
Mom stands at the door, looking unimpressed.  
“You’re still in bed?” she says. “Don’t you have class today?”  
I look at the time. Oh shoot! It started half an hour ago!

I jump out of bed. “I need to get dressed,” I say, throwing open my drawers.  
Mom sighs and leaves. I close the door behind her.   
I literally have an online test today that I forgot about AND didn’t study for! It’s open book, but I was supposed to look up all the answer in the textbook so I could be ready for the test.  
When I finally get Zoom open the class is already over and so is the test.

I lay down on my bedroom floor and cover my face with my arms. Why do I even care so much? I wish I didn’t care. But now I have a sinking feeling in my stomach. I usually get good grades so now Mr. Hapman will be asking me if everything is "okay." I wish I was 23 and didn’t have to do school. Then I could date Chris without it being illegal or something.

I get up and fish out my phone from under my pillow. I open the group chat. Everyone is talking about the exam, even people who don’t care about school much. They all took the exam but me. They’re comparing answers and I feel like I shouldn’t be in the chat, but it’s open book anyway.

‘I totally missed the test,’ I write.  
No one responds to my message but they talk amongst themselves and the sinking feeling in my stomach sinks even further.

‘How’s your roommate?’ Amber writes.  
I know she’s talking about Chris but I don’t want to talk about him in the group. But it also wouldn’t be a good idea to just ignore her. She’s probably wondering why he hasn’t been to the Smoke lately. It was their fault he caught a cold, which could make him has less immunity to possibly catching COVID. I know it was his decision but for some reason I feel like blaming Amber.

I’m still thinking how I should respond when I realize that if she’s asking me how he’s doing, then she obviously doesn’t message him personally. The thought makes me feel better.  
‘He has a cold,’ I write. ‘I don’t even know how he caught it since we’re in home isolation’  
Let’s see how she responds to that.  
She sends me a private message.

‘He caught a cold? Is it bad? Is it COVID?’  
‘What? No,’ I write back. ‘He’s fine.’ Now I regret bringing it up. I don’t know how Amber could even think she has a chance with him. Although I suppose she is very pretty and she’s been attending those illegal gathering with him.

‘I need to tell you something,’ Amber writes.  
Here we go. She’s going to tell me about the Smoke.  
‘Okay,’ I reply.  
I wait but then she only writes, ‘never mind.’  
‘What is it?’  
‘Can you just ask Chan to check his insta?’  
His Instagram? I don’t even have his Instagram! Did he give her his Instagram?  
Jealousy boils inside of me but I push it down. It’s silly to be jealous. I just hung out for hours with him in the middle of the night in his room. She should be the one to be jealous.

‘Ya, when I see him next.’  
‘You didn’t see him today?’  
Shoot. I don’t want to tell her I’m grounded. I also don’t want to brag about last night. I actually can’t think of anyone I’d want to tell about last night. It’s kind of personal, like if I talk about it, it will be ruined and no longer just mine.  
‘He’s still downstairs. Probably sleeping in.’

‘Is his room near yours?’ she asks.  
I smile. I could say so many things to make her jealous, but there’s no point. Does she even know he’s 23?  
‘He’s renting the basement.’  
‘OH,’ she writes. ‘So do you like him?’  
‘He’s nice,’ I write.  
‘No I mean, you know LIKE him’

I look at the message for a minute. I'm not going to tell her anything.  
‘Do you know how old he is?’ I ask, instead of answering the question.  
‘Idk like 17?’  
‘He’s 23’ I instantly feel guilty for sharing that. Though it’s just basic information, maybe Chris doesn’t want everyone to know his exact age.

‘What!’  
‘Ikr’  
‘Wow’  
‘Well I gotta go’  
‘Why’d you miss the test?’  
‘Slept in’  
‘Do you and Chan have breakfast together?’  
‘No, why?’  
‘I think I like him’

I roll my eyes.  
‘You don’t even know him tho’  
I wait. Will she admit to meeting with him at the Smoke?  
I watch the dots dance on the screen, but the message doesn’t come through.  
Finally she writes, ‘does he have a girlfriend?’  
Seriously? I just told her he’s 23. Why is she even bothering? But I guess I’m no better, I’d date him in a second if he wanted me. Is there some kind of law against it though? With our ages?  
I start typing on my computer: Age of consent laws.

Suddenly my mom bursts into my room again and I quickly close the tab.  
“Mom, why don’t you ever knock?” I say.  
“Knock? Why? What are you hiding?”  
“I’m hiding a boy in the closet,” I say.  
She glances at the closet.  
“Seriously, Mom. Obviously I’m not.”

My phone buzzes and the notification says I have two snaps from Chris.  
“Why aren’t you in class?”  
“What?”  
Mom points to the computer.  
“Oh, I kind of missed it.”  
“Give me your phone!”  
“What?”

She holds out her hand for the phone.  
“Wait.” I scramble to open my message. “I just have to say bye.”  
Chris wrote, 'Thanks. I’ll send you a song I am working on. Tell me what you think.'  
I start to reply but Mom grabs the phone out of my hand.

“Mom! I need to say I’m not going to be on the phone today!”  
“I’m sure your friends will realize that themselves when you’re not on your phone today.”  
“But-”  
Mom leaves with my phone and closes the door behind her. Now Chris will think I’ve left him on read and never replied!

I grab some paper and start to write a note.  
'Mom took my phone away.'   
I fold the paper into a paper airplane then try it out to see if it flies. It does. I’m still pretty good at making paper airplanes!  
My stomach growls and I realize I haven’t had breakfast yet. Now that I’m not chatting with Chris on Snapchat, all my needs come to the surface. I have to go to the washroom, I’m thirsty and I’m starving!  
I go to the washroom first and put my hair in a ponytail. I should do my make-up, in case Chris comes up to the kitchen for a snack, but I’m too hungry to do a proper make-up job. I tuck the paper airplane note in my back pocket and head down the stairs.

I groan when I see Mom at the kitchen table on her laptop. Then I remember what she said to Chris, basically telling him to stay away from me. And asking him about his girlfriend, something that I made up. How embarrassing! Or does he actually have a girlfriend? He mentioned a name to Mom. I haven't technically asked him. The thought tightens my stomach, but I could never just outright ask him. It would be so obvious that I like him. Still, how could Mom do that to me?

She looks up when I walk into the kitchen and I quickly busy myself making toast. I’m too mad to talk to her right now. She’s on her laptop anyway, working on something. How am I going to throw my paper airplane down the stairs with her sitting right there?

I put the toaster on the lowest setting, so I have to run it three times instead of just one. If I hang around long enough maybe Mom will leave. But once I'm done slowly buttering my toast, Mom is still at the table. 

I make some tea as well. It feels weird, not talking to each other. But she hasn’t said anything either so I assume she’s also mad, at me.   
I guess it’s always been just the two of us, but now that Chris is here it’s like she’s on the outside. The thought makes me a bit less angry with her. I wouldn’t want to feel like the third wheel either I guess.

Mom gets up suddenly and goes to the pantry.  
Now’s my chance! While she’s rummaging in there, probably for chocolate, which I know we’re out of so she'll never find any.  
I hurry to the stairs, unfold the paper airplane and toss it down.  
“We need to go shopping,” Mom says, her head still in the pantry.  
I jump in surprise. “What?”

“Go get dressed.” Mom leaves the pantry and I step away from the stairs. I recognize that look in her eyes. She is on a mission.  
“I am dressed," I say.  
She looks me over. “Okay fine, I’ll get changed then. We’ll leave in five minutes.”  
“What? Why do I have to come?”

She gives me a look and I don’t argue. I guess she doesn’t want to leave me at home alone with Chris. Next thing she’ll put a lock on my bedroom door at night or something.  
I keep looking around for my phone, somehow forgetting every thirty seconds that Mom has it.   
I pace the kitchen like an addict.  
“Mom, when do I get my phone back?” I call up the stairs, hoping Chris will hear me from downstairs. Then at least he’ll know I don’t have my phone with me and can’t answer his message. My paper airplane is still there, at the back garage door where the first set of stairs stop then the second set go the rest of the way down like a split level. He’d have to look up the stairs to see it. I consider going down to throw it the rest of the way, but Mom appears like a magician out of nowhere.

“Don’t even think about it,” she says, coming down the stairs.  
How can she get dressed so fast?  
“Think about what?” I say, stepping away from the back stairs.  
“Go put your shoes on.”  
“I thought I was grounded. So why am I going out?”  
“That is your grounding.”  
“That doesn’t even make sense,” I say. But there’s no point in arguing. I have to go. Mom’s in a bad mood.

Outside, the weather is actually nice. Even the wind has calmed down. But it makes me feel more trapped than ever. I want to go to a festival or carnival or outdoor farmer’s market.   
I cringe. I must be really desperate to see people.   
Or better yet, I want to go on a road trip with Chris! Yes, that would be so awesome. The thought sends electricity through my entire body.   
Did I just imagine last night, or does Chris maybe like me too?

Mom and I spend way too long at the grocery store. It’s colder in the store than outside and it makes me annoyed that we’re missing out on important sun rays, which are hard to get in Canada for most of the year. The parks are closed but we could still be walking around the neighbourhood or something. I think of Chris again, home alone. I want to message him and tell him I want to go for a walk with him. Before last night, I wouldn’t have had the courage to ask him. But even if he doesn’t like me as more than a friend, he definitely doesn’t mind hanging out with me.

“Here!” Mom shoves the basket of groceries she’s been holding, into my arms. “You’re younger than me, you carry it.”  
“I thought I wasn’t supposed to touch anything.”  
“Well you can shower when we get home. I’m not going to squish my spine because I have to carry everything.”  
“Squish your spine?” I shift the basket in my arms, heavy with canned fruit and a large carton of milk. What about my spine getting squished?

We end up getting a cart anyway and the shopping takes even longer, now that we have more space to fill with groceries. I can’t even check the time, being phoneless, but it feels like we’ve been at the grocery store for hours; following all the arrows is annoying. We have to circle around, going down an aisle we don't even need anything from, just to go back in the direction we actually want to go.

When it’s finally time to pay, the social distancing line-up goes down the entire front of the store and into a side aisle along the frozen food wall.  
We stand on the sticker that shows a pair of feet. I could have been spending this time with Chris at home. I sigh. My stomach feels weird, like I’m nervous. It’s the same kind of feeling as when I don’t have my phone, but worse. Am I becoming addicted to Chris?

We move up another spot to the next sticker.  
“Mom, what if Chris wants some groceries?”  
“He can eat ours,” Mom snaps.  
“But what if he likes different things?”  
Mom sighs and waves her hand at me. “Fine, text him and ask if he wants anything.”  
“I don’t have my phone, remember?”

Mom ignores me and I think of something brilliant I could do while I don’t have my phone at home.   
I set the basket down. “I’ll be right back,” I say, then run off to get a box of cupcake mix.   
Grandma always used to say, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.   
I’m going to make the best double chocolate cupcakes for Chris, ever!

\-----

“Eden!” Mom yells an hour later. I turn off the electric mixer. “Keep it in the bowl!"  
“It is!”  
She gives me an annoyed look. “All the way to the bottom of the bowl,” she says, grabbing a dishcloth. She begins to clean the counters which are now splattered with chocolate because the electric mixer splashed stuff everywhere.

“But then it hits the glass and makes a crunching sound. I’m going to break the bowl.”  
“What? No, it won’t break it. Just mix it at the bottom of the bowl.”

The cupcakes are a lot more clean-up than I expected, but once they’re done I eat three in a row. They're so good! Chris will love them. And hopefully, if I make enough cup cakes, one day he'll love me too.

Mom finally goes upstairs, right when I’m done icing the cupcakes. Now she can’t even try one, which kind of hurts. She knew I was working on them. Doesn't she want to try one? I've never baked cup cakes on my own before. I feel like she’s robbed me of the joy of showing off my limited baking skills. But it's Chris that I want to appreciate them, anyway.

I put the three best proportioned cupcakes on a plate and make sure their icing is perfect. Then I head down the stairs. I step on my paper airplane, which is still on the floor, halfway down. I look down the rest of the steps to the basement. It looks dark.

“Chris?”

I go down the stairs slowly. Is he sleeping?

I get that sinking feeling in my stomach again, the one that makes me think that he’s left the house, without telling anyone.  
Or maybe he messaged my phone and I never got it!

His bedroom door is open and I peek in.   
His bed is made and he’s not there.  
I hurry back up the stairs.

“Mom!” I yell. “I need my phone!”


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \-----
> 
> I take deep breaths. I’m going to pass out.  
> Then I hear a voice.  
> I stop breathing so I can listen more carefully.  
> It’s someone calling my name.
> 
> "Chris?" I whisper. But I don’t call out, afraid it’s just my imagination playing tricks on me and I’m going crazy.
> 
> The voice calls again, closer this time.  
> “Eden?”  
> It’s definitely Chris.
> 
> \------

I have a string of messages from Chris;

10:30AM Ya I make beats sometimes. I’ll send you some more of them

10:38AM Can you meet me outside? Like down the street?

10:40AM Tell your mom you’re going for a walk? You know that fire I was telling you about? Come with me?

My breath catches. He invited me!  
These messages were all sent before we went to the store!   
I’m so mad at Mom. That was almost five hours ago! Why did we need to spend so much time at the store? And making cupcakes?   
And he’s still not back.

I look out the window. The sun is on its way down. I don’t see any smoke out at the trees, but that doesn’t mean Chris and the others are not there.  
“Alright,” Mom says, tapping her foot and holding out her hand. “Give the phone back, you checked your messages.”  
“But I haven’t asked my friends about the school test yet.”  
“I thought you did that this morning.”

I suddenly remember Amber. She probably went to the fire too.   
I start to open her messages, when Mom snatches the phone away from me.  
“You can ask them tomorrow morning. Or ask your teacher when you do your video class.”  
“But I want to work on the assignment tonight.”  
“I thought you said it was a test.”  
“Well there’s also an assignment.”  
But Mom isn’t listening anymore.

“Can I go for a walk?” I ask. “It’s nice out and not windy. It’s never nice enough for walking.”  
Mom seems to think about this. I knew she’d want me to get fresh air. “Don’t go too far, since you don’t have your phone.”  
“I won’t.”  
I go quickly to put my shoes on again. I can’t let Chris know I’m coming, now that I don't have my phone. Should I not go? But if he’s still out there it could mean spending some time with him, away from home and Mom, even if Amber is there. At home I can’t spend any time with him at all.

I get my jean jacket and a scarf from the front closet. If I don’t get back before the sun goes down, it will get cold.  
I look behind me at the dishes and mess I’ve left behind from making the cupcakes. But I have to go now. It’s going to get dark soon.

In the garage I find that both bikes are still there. Chris didn’t take a bike?   
I decide not to either. I don’t want to ride a bike when he’s not riding one, and I don’t want to walk it all the way back.  
I hit the garage button then jump over the laser thing so the garage door shuts. I didn’t bring keys with me, but Mom can let me back in.

It’s oddly warm out. I take off my scarf and walk fast. What if the others don’t want me there? I know Amber won’t. Or maybe I’m the one that wishes she wasn’t there.  
There are people out, walking their dogs. I walk onto the grass to avoid them. It’s weird to be going to the Smoke, when it’s still light out, like I’m doing something illegal in broad daylight. The field behind the houses looks different in the day time and I’m not sure I’m going the right way. There are two gravel roads, that I didn’t notice before, both going towards the forest. Which one did I use when I came here at night time? I just followed the smoke in the distance. I know I was going straight. But without the smoke to guide me it’s hard to tell. Both roads lead to the forest.

I choose the first one, because it’s closer. They both probably end up in the same place anyway.  
Walking takes way longer than riding a bike. At first I don’t notice because I’m thinking too much; I still haven't messaged Mr. Hapman about missing the exam, and Amber probably thinks I’m ignoring her because I saw her message but didn’t reply, to her question about if Chris has a girlfriend. She probably thinks I’m jealous. But I feel the worst about not replying to Chris' messages. What if he thinks I don't like his songs he sent me? I didn't even get a chance to listen to them.

I put my scarf on again and do up a couple buttons on my jean jacket. The sun is going down and there’s a cold wind picking up.   
I look behind me and see that I’ve come pretty far from the edge of town. But the treeline ahead is still far away. How long have I been walking? It must be a while because the sun is already going down. Getting to the trees is a longer walk than when riding my bike. This was a bad idea. But it’s not snowing so I should be fine. But Chris already has a cold and he’s not used to constant cold weather like we have here in Canada. He’s from Australia.

I sniffle and pull the scarf up over my nose to warm it. I may be used to it but that doesn’t mean I like it.   
pick up the pace and start walking faster. There will be less wind in the trees. I just need to hurry up and get there.  
There’s no smoke in the sky to direct me.

A coyote howls suddenly and I jump. I run for the trees. They sound so close, like they’re right behind me, lots of them, including coyote puppies that yip and yap along with the older ones who howl hauntingly.  
Cold air burns down my throat and stings at my eyes as I run, but I keep going.

When I reach the trees I stop beside a large rock and lean back against it, gasping for air.   
It’s dark in between the trees, but I can’t go back out into the field alone. Panic grips me. What if Chris isn’t out here? But he wasn't home yet, so he must be here. No one’s allowed to go to anyone else’s house. Where else would he go?

I listen for any sounds of talking or laughing, but all I hear is my own breathing and really loud crickets. They sound like frogs croaking, or else like monster sized crickets. Either one is a scary thought. They’re all out in the field behind me, the monster crickets and the coyotes, who have finally stopped yipping. But that's even more scary. They could be anywhere now in the tall grass and I can’t hear where they are.

I walk farther into the trees, following a path that looks familiar. There’s still enough light to find my way between the trees. I see an opening ahead which looks like it could be the campfire place. But when I get there, it’s just an open space with an old log at the center.   
A deer bolts off into the trees when I step out into the open space. It startles me and back into a tree trunk that almost knocks the wind out of me.   
I should have found the campfire by now. It must have been at the end of the other road.

I head back the way I came, but now it's really dark. I step carefully on the squishy, wet leaves, still wet from the snow that recently melted.   
I can’t see the ground anymore. I look ahead to where there is still some light from the sky, between the trees; an open space up ahead. I just have to move forward until I’m back at the field. I’ll just run home as fast as I can when I get there, and hope that the coyotes and crickets don’t get me.

My fingers are numb with cold now and my teeth chatter.   
I trip on a tree trunk suddenly and land hard on my hands and knees in the wet, muddy leaves. My pants are ruined. The cold wet of the ground seeps through to my knees. But I’m almost there. I get up and wipe my hands on my jean jacket, to get the freezing cold mud off my hands, even if it means getting my jacket all muddy.

When I finally break through the trees, the view startles me.  
I’m on the edge of a cliff!  
I look down to see a river below. The row of trees continue on the other side of the ravine.

I crouch down quickly, a wave of dizziness from seeing how high I am, washing over me.   
The moon glistens off the water far below and a cold wind wafts up from the chasm between this side and the other side.  
I can’t move. If I stand up, I'll fall.

I hug my knees tight. The forest is completely dark behind me.   
I’ve never been here before. I didn’t even know we were this close to a river.   
I’m totally lost.

I reach for my phone but then remember that I don’t have it.  
How am I going to get back? Mom’s going to be so worried.  
I can’t stop the tears from falling. I wipe at them with my jacket sleeve, but they keep returning. I realize too late that I’m probably smudging muddy sleeves across my face.  
I look behind me again. The space in between the trees is all black. I won't be able to see at all if I try to walk through.   
My body starts to shake. I can’t get up even if I wanted to. My fear of heights has me paralyzed.

I take deep breaths. I’m going to pass out.  
Then I hear a voice.  
I stop breathing so I can listen more carefully.  
It’s someone calling my name.

"Chris?" I whisper. But I don’t call out, afraid it’s just my imagination playing tricks on me and I’m going crazy.

The voice calls again, closer this time.  
“Eden?”  
It’s definitely Chris.

“Chris?” I try to stand, but my legs feel wobbly and I almost lose my balance and fall over the edge of the cliff, so I quickly curl back down into a crouch.  
“Chris…” I call, with as much effort as I can. But it comes out barely louder than normal talking.

“Eden?” He sounds alert, like maybe he heard me.  
“Chris...” I try again.

There’s a long silence. Was it actually my imagination?   
Then I hear the branches moving behind me and I stiffen.  
A flash of light catches my attention  
I turn to see a sharp, white light that stings my eyes. It’s a cell phone with the flashlight on.   
I shield my eyes and can’t see if it's Chris, but I can hear him.

“Eden!” He rushes over. The concern in his voice stabs at my heart. “Are you okay?” he says, sounding breathless.  
I feel bad for making him worry so much. I must look like I got chased by some wild animal or attacked. But I was just dumb and got lost and tripped and fell.  
The piercing light goes away and I'm suddenly lifted up into Chris’ arms.   
I squeal in surprise, still worried about the cliff’s edge. But Chris is strong and he takes me away from the edge.

“Can you use your phone as a light?” Chris’ voice is close to my ear as I cling to his neck.  
“I don’t have my phone,” I mumble into his shoulder. He shifts me higher up into his arms.  
“My phone’s inside my jacket pocket,” he breathes. “The inside pocket.”

Omgosh I'm probably so heavy. I should tell him that I can walk and he doesn’t have to carry me. But I can’t stop clinging to him. Well, my legs were pretty wobbly earlier so I probably should stay in his arms.  
I reach inside his leather jacket to search the inside pocket for his phone. His jacket is undone and I slide my hand over his chest.   
He's warm through his t-shirt and I just want to melt into him.   
I find the phone and turn on the flashlight, holding it out in front of us so he can see.

Chris carries me through the trees and I feel like I'm floating. He has a warm scent and a strong body. I don't even feel cold anymore. In fact, I think my hands are sweating.  
When we get to the open field on the other side, I feel better. The moon is out and I can see across to the line of houses where we live.  
“I’m okay to walk,” I say, turning off the phone flashlight.

Chris sets me down on my feet gently, then cups my face in his hands. “What happened?” he asks looking into my eyes.   
His eyes reflect the moonlight and glisten with concern. “Are you hurt?”  
“No.” My cheeks heat up. “I just got lost.”  
He looks confused and I realize how dumb that sounds. I literally live here, and I got lost. Like in my own "backyard."  
“You’re all dirty,” he says.   
He looks me over and moves his hand from my cheeks to my shoulders. “This is my fault.”  
“No-”  
“You came because I told you to come to the fire.”  
“Yes, but-”  
“I’m sorry, Eden. I should have messaged you again to see where you were.”  
“No, no! I didn’t have my phone, remember?”

He pulls me into a hug and I don’t resist. I burry my face into his warm t-shirt, burrowing myself beneath his open jacket. My hands slip under his jacket and around his back to return the hug. He rubs my back in a comforting way and I don't care that I almost had a panic attack and fell over the side of a cliff. This is totally worth getting lost and being more scared than I’ve ever been.

Then I remember Mom.

“Oh no!” I pull away. “My mom is going to be so worried!”  
“She doesn’t know-r you came here?”  
“No! I couldn’t tell her I was going to an illegal gathering!” It comes out more accusatory sounding than I intend.  
“Illegal?”  
“Well we’re still on lockdown, so we’re not allowed to gather in groups," I say gently.  
“I thought lockdown is just for the stores being closed.”  
“No,” I shake my head. “But it doesn’t matter now. We have to hurry.”

My heart pounds wildly. I’m not afraid of how mad Mom will be, I’m scared she’ll be super worried, which is worse. I’d rather her be mad. But I told her I was going for a walk and then I never returned! She must think I got kidnapped.  
“Why didn’t she call me?” Chris asks.

That’s a good question. If she was worried, she’d at least call Chris to ask if he’d seen me, wouldn’t she?  
“I can call her now,” Chris offers.  
“No.” I look at the line of houses in the distance. If she didn’t call Chris then maybe there’s a chance she didn’t even notice I’ve been gone this whole time.   
“Let’s just hurry back,” I say.

We walk fast down the straight, gravel path. I want to hold Chris’ hand so badly, but he’s got them tucked into his jacket pockets now.  
“What am I going to tell her?” I breathe.  
“The truth?”  
“Yeah.”  
But I won't. Not if she doesn't notice anything is wrong. Chris doesn’t understand.   
Or maybe he’s right. But I’m already grounded as it is! I just can't tell her where I was planning to go, before I got lost.

The wind blows against us, cold and unforgiving, but I hardly even feel it. All I can think about is what I’m going to say when I get home.   
I just hope Mom hasn’t done anything crazy like call the police.

Our shoes crunch the gravel as we walk in silence. Chris takes my hand suddenly and pulls me along so we walk faster.   
My heart squeezes in my chest. He came and looked for me. The memory of his warm hug and being surrounded by his arms will keep me company when I’m grounded forever, to the inside of my closet or something.

\---

The house is dark when we arrive. Chris has a house key and quietly opens the door.  
We step inside without a word. The lights are off and everything is still.  
“Is your mom gone?” Chris whispers.  
“No, her shoes are still here.”  
He nods and we remove our shoes.  
“I’ll go up and check her room,” I whisper.   
Chris gives me a thumbs up and I hurry up the stairs on tiptoes.

Mom’s door is closed, which usually means she’s asleep.   
My door is closed too, the way I left it before I went for my walk.  
I stop in front of Mom’s door and take a deep breath.   
This is it. Please be in there and not at the police station, I silently pray.

I knock lightly on the door, then open it.

“Mom?”

The room is dark but I can see Mom in her bed. My shoulders relax.   
She gasps slightly as though startled. I've woken her from sleep.

“Eden? What are you doing? You scared me. What time is it?”  
“I don’t know.”  
“Are you sleepwalking?”  
“What?”  
“Just go back to bed.”

Did she not know I was gone?  
“I forgot to tell you when I got back from my walk.”  
“I heard you come in through the garage," she grumbles. "And no, you’re not getting your phone back tonight.”

“Okay.”

I close the door slowly.   
I don't come in through the garage unless I take the bike, so it must have been Chris coming home then.

I let out a sigh of relief, then hurry to my room. I check the computer for the time. 2AM!  
I flip on my lights and catch my reflection in the mirror.

Wow! Thank goodness it was dark in Mom’s room. I look like I’ve just been chased by a lion in the jungle.   
My face is smudged with mud, my hair all crazy, and streaks of tears down my cheeks.   
No wonder Chris was worried when he saw me. How embarrassing!

I have to shower.

I grab some pyjamas and underwear, then hurry to the upstairs washroom.   
I’m about to close the door when I hear my mom cough.   
She’ll be so mad if I keep the water running for an entire shower, while she’s trying to sleep.   
And she’ll ask me why I’m suddenly showering at 2am. If she thinks I'm sleepwalking she'll come out and try to force dress me and put me back in bed.

I grab a towel and wipe at the dirt off my face.   
I can’t let her see me like this.   
I have to go shower downstairs.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \--------
> 
> “Eden,” Chris whispers and the butterflies in my stomach go crazy. “I can’t ask you to stay."  
> I swallow hard.  
> "But you can insist," he continues. "And I can pretend I tried to stop you.”
> 
> \--------

“Chris?”

I knock lightly on Chris’ bedroom door. There’s light coming from underneath, so I know he’s up.   
I lean in to listen for a reply, when the door suddenly opens and I jump back.  
Chris stands in the doorway, wearing PJ bottoms and no shirt.  
My breath catches.   
What was I going to say? Why am I here? Holy crap, think Eden! 

Chris looks down at the towel and PJs in my arms. Then I remember.  
“Oh!" I clear my throat. "Can I shower down here? I mean in your washroom? I don’t want to wake Mom by showering upstairs. She might see my muddy clothes on the floor. She didn’t even know I was out this late! Can you believe that? That’s like a miracle! She thought I came home and was home this whole time. So weird, but thank goodness.” I stop to take a breath. Crap, I’m rambling! I can’t help it. Being in the presence of Chris’ shirtless body, this close, is messing with my head. I try not to look at his sculpted chest, but it's like trying not to breathe, the effort doesn't last very long.

“Yes," Chris smiles. "You can shower here." He steps forward and I quickly move aside, suddenly terrified of touching him. If my fingers feel his bare chest, they'll never let go.  
He at the bathroom door in two long strides, and turns on the light. “All for you,” he says with a wink. I stop breathing for a moment. His wink sets my insides on fire. "Oh, I mean. All yours... It's all yours?"  
I laugh and it lightens the mood a bit. Is he nervous too?   
No, that's impossible. Why would he be. I'm like some average, fifteen year old child, and he's this movie-star looking adult, model or something.

I clutch my towel and clothes to my chest, worried that if I take a step now, my knees will do something funny and I’ll wobble like a dork. What is wrong with me? It's like I' drunk or something. I’m not even supposed to be down here, and now I’m about to take a shower in Chris' bathroom.

Chris steps back, giving me more room to go past him even though I have plenty of room. I quickly come to my senses and run into the bathroom. Why am I acting so weird!  
I turn to close the bathroom door but when I look up, our eyes meet.   
He studies my eyes, like he's trying to figure something out. Is he thinking the same thing I'm thinking? That this is dangerous temptation territory right now?

Chris is the first to move. He closes the bathroom door gently, giving me one last questioning glance before shutting it with a soft click.  
I let out the breath I was holding. Holy, my body is on fire!  
I take a moment to adjust myself and look around. Chris has a toothbrush holder fastened to the wall, and a bathroom bag, shaving kit type thing on the counter. It feels so intimate to be in here, in his bathroom, and about to undress!

I pull my clothes off slowly, dropping them in a pile on the floor. My panties are the last to come off and they land on top of the pile.   
I quickly pick them up again and tuck them between my clothes so they’re hidden. I’ll have to make sure to take my clothes straight upstairs when I’m done. And not let Chris see my basic, walmart underwear. I would die.

I lock the door, even though there's no way Chris would just walk in.   
I notice my reflection in the mirror. I feel very naked right now. Just knowing that Chris is nearby, in the other room, makes me feel exposed, but not in a bad way.  
I take long, slow breaths and study my body in the mirror. I don’t obsess over my body like some girls do. It’s just ‘there’ and I mostly try to ignore it because my boobs aren't big and filled in, and my hips are round and sexy. I'm not much different than I was at like eleven, except I do have some boobs and my butt looks kind of rounder I guess.   
Suddenly I imagine seeing my undressed self through Chris’ eyes. Omgosh what would he think? My long hair hangs down my sides, making me look like I actually have curves all over. It’s like I’m seeing myself for the first time.   
Heat rises to my cheeks. The thought of a guy seeing me naked has always been horrifying to me, but if it were Chris...   
The thought is exhilarating.   
Woah. A shiver runs through me.  
No, I have to stop thinking about this.

I quickly turn on the water for a shower. The bathtub already has water splashed everywhere. Chris must have taken a shower too.  
Oh no... but it's too late. An image of Chris in the shower, water flowing over his body, enters my mind and I can't stop it.   
I take in a shaky breath and set the water cooler than I normally have it.   
I think I need a cold shower.

\----

A cold shower is just what I needed. I never knew if that was just something people said, or if it actually works to cool off being turned on, but now I know. It does kind of work. The cold woke me up and it's uncomfortable enough to get your mind off of hot, sexy things.   
I put on my fuzzy PJ’s and the familiar feel of softness all around me makes me want to sleep, which is a good thing.

I gather up my clothes from the bathroom floor and open the door. Cold air wafts in and I shiver.   
The basement is dark and the carpet feels cool beneath my bare feet.   
Is Chris asleep? I do have class tomorrow so I should get to bed. How late is it anyway?  
I really hate not having my phone.

I turn off the bathroom lights and then notice a dim glow coming from Chris’ bedroom. It’s a phone light I think. He’s probably checking his phone before going to bed.  
I tiptoe up the stairs and to the laundry room on the main level, then deposit my clothes in a basket of dirty clothes.  
It feels like I’m walking in a daze as I move around in the darkness. I could walk anywhere in this house even if I was blind, and not even stub a toe. We’ve lived here for so long, every inch of it is embedded in my brain. Except, when I head for the stairs to go to my room, I end up going back down again, instead of up. My body has a mind of its own and seems to have decided I need to go back down to see Chris.  
What am I doing? I need to get back to my room!  
And yet I don't. Instead, I carefully make my way back to the basement until I'm standing in front of Chris’ door.

I’m just going to say goodnight. That’s fine to do. People say goodnight. It's courteous and nice. Better than just walking off and disappearing. How rude!

I push the door gently to open it wider, and look in.   
Chris is lying on his stomach, propped up on his elbows while looking at his phone. The blue light casts a glow over his face that makes him look like an angel.   
He looks up.  
Crap! What was I going to say?  
Omgosh why am I here again?

There’s an awkward moment of silence as I stand there, unable to move or speak, and Chris waits for me to say something. The two conflicting voices in my head hold me captive. One tells me to say goodnight and go upstairs, the other says to walk into the room... and see what happens.  
I don't want to do either of those things.  
I want to do both of them.

I want him to choose for me.

Chris gets up from the bed, his movements easy and light, like a gymnast in full control of his body who's light as air.  
Then he’s in front of me and I’m wide awake, my hazy tiredness but a memory now.  
I swallow hard.  
Breathe Eden, breathe!

“Are you-r okay?” Chris asks me.

Embarrassment washes over me. Omgosh I shouldn't have come back down and stood here like a crazy person.   
Am I okay? Apparently not! Like what teenaged girl in her right mind comes to see a 23 year old, super sexy guy, at 3am?

Chris is still looking at me, a bit worried now. I have to respond.

“I... I don’t like night time,” I say.  
Wtf did I just say?

“Oh-r-right. The dark.” Chris flips on the light switch and the overhead lights burn my eyes.  
I shake my head. It’s not always the dark that bothers me. A lot of the times I just don’t want to fall into sleep, because the thought of being shut off from reality scares me.

“It's like we sort of die every night," I say. "And then come alive again the next morning. We... completely shut down.” I begin to fidget with my fingers. What I’m telling Chris is true. This really is a fear of mine. But why am I telling this to him now? Holy crap, stop. It’s like the opposite of what I’m actually here for, which I'm pretty sure is to hope that he wants to make out with me. 

“If our entire reality is how we experience everything through our brains," I continue. "Then that means we cease to exist while our brains are shut off, right? It’s like a mini death each night.”

Chris blinks.  
Omgosh he thinks I’m insane.

“I never thought about it like that,” he says after a moment.   
He keeps this intense eye contact with me and I can’t look away.

“I don’t want to cease to exist tonight,” I whisper. "At least not alone."  
I hold my breath.  
That was really forward of me. Wow.

Chris studies me a moment, then takes my arm and gently pulls me into the room.  
He closes the door behind us with a gentle click.

Then he reaches for the light switch and shuts off the lights.  
We're submerged in darkness.  
I can’t see his face anymore. But I can smell his warm scent and feel the energy coming off of his body, which is so close to mine.

Chris' hand is still on my arm, sort of cupping my elbow lightly.   
My stupid long-sleeve pyjamas block the feel of his hand on my skin, but the heat still seeps through, warming me right down to my lower insides.

“Eden,” Chris whispers and the butterflies in my stomach go crazy. “I can’t ask you to stay."  
I swallow hard.  
"But you can insist," he continues. "And I can pretend I tried to stop you.”

I feel dizzy.  
I have to be the one to decide this.   
He can’t, or else it will seem like he pressured me, because he’s the older one. I'm not even supposed to be with him in the middle of the night like this, headed for his bed. I shouldn't be. What if he gets into trouble somehow? But...

I walk over to the bed, more out of a need to sit down immediately before my knees give out, than from making a definite decision.  
I sit down. Then I lay down onto my side, without even deciding to, because I’m suddenly too tired to be sitting upright.

My head lowers onto the softness of his pillow and I'm surrounded by his scent.   
I’m going to pass out from too much comfort, like literally falling into sleep.  
No, I can’t sleep. Not now.  
Stay awake!

The bed sinks under Chris’ weight as he climbs to the other side of me.  
I want to turn around and face him. I need to! But it’s impossible. I can't move from my side. Apparently my body has already gone to sleep. And now my mind is trying to run off to sleep too. I cling to consciousness.

The sheets rustle and I hear Chris’ breaths as he gets comfortable and sets the bed sheet onto my shoulder.   
It’s so dark that I don’t know if my eyes are opened or closed.

The movement behind me stops and I hear Chris take a long, slow breath, settling in for sleep.  
A moment later I feel him gently setting the heavy duvet blanket onto me and I'm covered in warmth.  
I need to turn around. I need to reach out for him in the dark.

Just as I muster up the energy to turn and face him, I feel an unexpected, gentle pressure on my upper back, near my shoulder.   
It's Chris, resting his hand on me. Is it a question? His way of asking me to turn around and initiate, since he doesn't want to be the one to do it in case he's accused of enticing a girl a lot younger than him? Or is it a comforting touch, to soothe me?   
I let myself relax into the warmth of it, just for a moment...  
and just like that, I’m asleep.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \-------
> 
> My arm has nowhere to go so I rest it on his chest. He sets his hand gently on my head and lightly brushes my cheek with his palm. I automatically close my eyes at his touch.
> 
> “I have something for you,” Chris says.
> 
> I tilt my head up. “You do?”
> 
> Please let it be a kiss!
> 
> \-------

I wake to a dreary grey light from outside the small window above me and rain tapping against it. Rain, not snow. Is the snow is officially over with? I'm almost afraid to hope.   
I blink up at the ceiling, trying to remember where I am. The basement…

I look to my side and see Chris asleep on his back, beside me. His face is turned away from me, his chest rising and falling in a quiet sleep. Even his sleep is perfect. I always worried that I’d never get any sleep if I got married and slept in the same bed as a guy. But with Chris I had the best sleep of my life! He’s a quiet sleeper.   
I wasn’t thinking of the darkness outside, or of being unconscious while asleep. I just felt safe… like everything was okay as long as Chris is next to me.

I take in a deep breath and let it out slowly. My body feels satisfied with sleep. I’m comfortable but not tired. I don't think I've ever felt not tired in the morning.  
I turn onto my side to face Chris and end up rolling right up against him, though I didn’t intend to. My chest pushes up against his arm and he stirs awake. I try to shift away but his body weight on the bed just keeps me sunk into him. 

“Sorry,” I say softly, still making a feeble attempt to push away, but he only looks down at me and smiles. I relax into him and give up the fight. My arm has nowhere to go so I rest it on his chest. He sets his hand gently on my head and lightly brushes my cheek with his palm. I automatically close my eyes at his touch.  
“I have something for you,” Chris says.  
I tilt my head up. “You do?”  
Please let it be a kiss!

Chris gets up and suddenly has all the energy in the world, bouncing into standing position on the floor and searching for something. Our small moment of morning affection has left me aching for more. But Chris is on some mission now and the moment is gone. He lifts up a small, bluetooth speaker and climbs back into the bed. I sit up and lean back against the wall, ready to listen to whatever he’s got.

“This song is called, Garden of Eden,” Chris says. "The speaker is better." He scrolls through his phone and I watch him. His bangs hang into his eyes, hair disheveled from sleeping, but still perfectly sexy. His shoulders and chest are uncovered and I have a powerful urge to touch him. He looks up at me and smiles. I realize I’m supposed to be paying attention to the music and not his body. I didn't even notice it start playing.

He turns up the volume and a dance beat plays from the speaker. It’s harder than just pop dance as it starts getting more into the song, like industrial trance; something they could use in a dystopian movie or space adventure. I wait for lyrics or something that would explain why it’s called Garden of Eden, but there are no words.  
Chris looks at me expectantly.  
“It’s really great!” I say. It is great. I hope it isn’t some super popular song that everyone knows and I'm dumb for not recognizing it. “I’ll add it to my Apple Music,” I quickly say.   
I search for my phone on the bed.  
“Eden.” Chris sighs and his shoulders drop. I stop my search.   
Shoot did I say something wrong? He looks disappointed. Crap, what did I say wrong?

Chris looks intently at me. “I made this song,” he says. “For you-r. It’s not on Apple Music.”  
“What?” I stare at him wide eyed.  
“Yesterday. The song has not made it to Apple Music yet.” He winks and my face heats up with embarrassment. He did say he had something for me. Why am I so dumb? I can’t believe he actually named a song after me!  
I throw my arms around Chris and pull him into a hug. I have to hug him. No guy has ever made a song for me. Or even given me any gift at all since grade 4 mandatory valentine's card sharing. His skin is warm everywhere my hands touch, his back muscles firm. He pulls me close and I’m suddenly in his lap with my legs wrapped around him. I hug him tight like a panda hugging a tree for dear life. No matter how hard I squeeze him it’s just never close enough. I want to be closer!

I let out a staggered breath and Chris runs his hand over my back. It's comforting, but when his fingers reach my lower back I arch forward. He chuckles and does it again, and my body responds again.

“St-top,” I say, half laughing and half ready to cry out for more.   
Chris slips his hand up the back of my neck instead and into my hair. I gasp at the feel of his fingers. I’m instantly awake, like after jumping into a cold lake.   
I tilt my head back, against his hand, loving the feel of it in my hair. Then feel Chris’ lips on my neck. My chest heaves forward against him, wanting some recognition too.

A loud bang of the door opening abruptly cuts into the wave of pleasure that was mounting in me to never before experienced levels.   
Chris and I jump apart. Mostly I jump, because I'm the one who was on him.  
I land too close to the side of the bed and do a slow motion tumble to the ground, landing on top of some of Chris’ clothes.

I look up at my mom standing in the doorway.   
Even from this upside down angle on the floor, I can see the anger on her face.   
The music is still playing but I’ve landed back on Earth now. For a moment I forgot where I was and even who I was. But now reality has come crashing down and I’m about to get into some really big trouble.


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \------
> 
> But now it's too late, I can’t stop thinking about my almost make-out session with Chris this morning. And what’s even more thrilling is that he, Chris himself, 'wanted' to kiss me no the neck! He likes me... in that way... It seems surreal.
> 
> I no longer care about the zoom class and just want it to be over.
> 
> \------

I wait for the screaming and anger to come, but Mom just stands there, daring me to say something.   
I don’t dare. I get up slowly and walk past her carefully, then make a run for it up the stairs. I'm such a coward for leaving Chris behind to whatever fate awaits him at the hands of my mother. But he’s not family, so she’ll be nicer to him. She's only mean to me.

I stop at the top of the stairs. This is all my fault. I have to make sure she doesn't say anything mean to Chris. I turn back but then see mom coming up the stairs.  
“Go to your room,” she says coldly.  
I don’t argue and scurry away.

In my room I start pacing and chewing my nails. I have to do something, to get my mind off of everything. It’s still pretty early. I could probably do some homework before the zoom classroom meeting. I have way too much energy, like I'm a ball of nervousness.

I got to my desk and throw my textbook open. I doubt I'll be able to focus at all. Even on a good day it's almost impossible to find this stuff interesting. But it's just fill in the blanks and I start doing it. It gets my mind off of the trouble I’ll be in once mom thinks of a suitable punishment. It also helps distract me from the fact that I don’t have my cell phone. I can’t check to see if Chris has sent me anything on Snapchat. Or message the group chat on Instagram. 

I get through sections 1, 2 and 3 before the zoom call. I even make my bed and rearrange all my Rilakkuma stuffies on my shelf before the call. I don’t think I’ve ever been more productive in my life. I know what Mom would say, that it's because I don't have my phone. But it's actually because I'm afraid for my life in my own house.

When Mr. Hapman starts the class the first thing he says is to me.   
"Eden I see you skipped out on the group assignment with Amber and Daren, so you won’t be getting the group mark."   
I’m too speechless to respond. He's basically saying I'm going to get a zero. What can I say in my defence? I can’t believe Amber didn’t tell me! She could have messaged me… oh right. I didn’t have my phone. I’m about to say that when Mr. Hapman continues with the lesson. 

I sit quietly in my chair, blinking back tears. I want to just shut off the zoom, but that would look childish. Great, Mom is disappointed in me and now Mr. Hapman is too. The only person who still likes me is Chris. The memory of his cool lips on my neck make me let out a gasp. I slap my hand over my mouth. Did everyone hear that? Mr. Hapman pauses a second and I quickly turn off my mic.

But now it's too late, I can’t stop thinking about my almost make-out session with Chris this morning. And what’s even more thrilling is that he, Chris himself, 'wanted' to kiss me no the neck! He likes me... in that way... It seems surreal.

I no longer care about the zoom class and just want it to be over. I worked hard all morning to try and catch up and Mr. Hapman just called me out in front of the whole class, instead of asking me why I didn’t do the group assignment. I didn't even know about it! Amber and Daren probably tried to contact me on instagram and I didn’t have my phone. I don't think either of them have my actual phone number. Somehow I didn’t even see that assignment on the class page.

When the class ends I hear a bunch of banging around and doors opening and closing downstairs. What is going on down there? Does Mom have Chris cleaning the house?  
I hear the low vibration of his voice through the walls when he speaks downstairs and it sends shivers through me. Damn, I’ve got it bad for him.  
They’re speaking Korean and I can’t understand. At least it doesn’t sound like arguing.

I don’t dare leave my room though. I don’t want to set Mom off the edge and have Chris witness that. I’ll just stay in my room, for now. I don’t know how I’m ever going to get my phone back now though. Being caught staying with Chris overnight is like, grounding from phone for life.  
My stomach rumbles. Maybe I could sneak down for a snack, and see what's going on down there. I hear the front door open then bang closed. I listen for a minute and hear nothing.  
I'm getting more and more hungry by the second. I have to go down and get some food.

I untangle my stiff legs and get up from my chair. I hope I don't have to face Mom, but I have tell Chris to add me on facebook so we can message on my PC since I don't have my phone and Snapchat.  
I stick my head out of my bedroom door and listen.

“Mom?” I call.   
There’s no response.  
I go downstairs on my tiptoes, not sure if I want to be seen yet. But the house is very still and there is no one in the kitchen.   
Did Mom leave? She’d never leave me alone with Chris, would she?

“Mom?” I call down to the basement. Again no response. Is Chris gone too?  
If Mom wanted to punish me, then abandoning me at home, alone, would definitely be a good way of doing it. Especially with no phone. I feel the anxiety rising.

“Chris?” I call down the stairs and there’s no response.   
I go halfway down the stairs but the lights are off downstairs and it just feels abandoned.   
Chris is gone too? Where in the world did they go?

I go back to the kitchen and check the fridge door for a note or something. But there’s nothing there.  
My eyes prick with tears.   
It’s not a big deal. I’m old enough to be left home alone.   
So then why does this feel like such a betrayal?

I sit down at the kitchen table and stare at the clock. They can’t be gone forever. They’ll be back eventually.  
I look around the kitchen. Mom has left her mug of coffee on the counter and her plate of half eaten toast. I don’t see any signs of lunch being made though. Then I realize that the kitchen and living room are both a bit of a mess. There goes my theory that all the banging around was Mom and Chris cleaning. There’s a pile of blankets and sheets and pillows on the couch. I go over to inspect it.   
What the heck!

I throw the pillows off the top of the pile and look at the sheets.   
They’re Chris’ sheets.  
I run down the stairs and into his room.   
The bed is stripped bare and his closet is empty.  
I swallow hard.

No…  
She couldn’t have done this to me.

Mom has kicked Chris out.


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \------
> 
> I open Snapchat to see if Chris is on it. I at least want to say goodbye.  
> At the top, where my last contact with Chris was, is a circle with a greyed out silhouette and the name ‘Chan’ beside it.   
> I stare at it in disbelief. He’s closed his Snapchat account. 
> 
> \------

I rummage through mom’s desk drawer, catching my finger on a sharp paperclip.   
"Ouch!"  
No phone.

I check her bathroom closet. It’s not there either.  
I open all the drawers in the bathroom and go through the cleaning products under the sink.  
Nothing.

Maybe I can get it to beep using Find My Phone on my computer. I turn to head back to my room then glance at Mom's bed.  
It still isn’t made. I check under the blankets and under the pillow. Then crouch down and look under the bed.   
There it is!  
I have to pull the bed frame away from the wall so I can reach down and get it because it's all the way at the back wall.  
When I finally get my hands on it I let out a big sigh of relief. Omgosh I missed my phone so much!   
But it doesn’t turn on. The battery is dead.

I run to my room and plug it in.  
If I hear the front door open I’ll take it back to Mom's room and drop it down the side of the bed again and push the bed frame back.   
But I have to get on Snapchat first and ask Chris what’s happened.  
I chew at my nails waiting for the phone to charge enough so I can start it up.  
I go onto Instagram on my computer in the meantime. Amber said she was talking with Chris on Instagram. Maybe I can find his instagram through her followers and just see what he’s posted lately. Unless it’s a private account.

I find him right away.   
A pang of jealousy hits me when I realize that he’s following Amber on Instagram and not me.  
I click on his account.   
It’s public.

His latest post is a photo from the airport.  
I gasp, then click on the image. Maybe it was posted a long time ago when he first came here and…  
Posted 40 min ago.  
I can’t breathe.  
My phone turns on finally.

I hear the front door open.  
I don’t care if my mom finds me with my phone anymore.  
She sent Chris away. She literally made him have no choice but to fly back to Korea!  
I’m so mad my head hurts.

“Mom!” I yell, the rage real.  
I storm down the stairs. She’s taking her shoes off at the front entrance and seems surprised to see me.

“How could you!” I yell.   
Now there are tears in my eyes. Great, I don't want to cry. I hate crying when I’m mad.  
My hands shake and I have a death grip on my phone.

“Your phone-” Mom starts.  
“How could you make Chris leave the country?”  
“What?”  
“I saw his instagram post! You kicked him out just because I hung out with him!”

“You spent the night with him, there's a difference.”  
“Did you even ASK me what happened?”  
“I think I saw pretty clearly what was happening when I came in.”

I’m too mad to make words come out of my mouth.   
She’s so wrong! I wouldn’t just sleep with a guy so easily. I’ve never even made out with one in my life. Last night was the closest I ever got. I still had my clothes on!  
I’ve been alone in lockdown for months. We barely did anything and now she's taken away my only source of a loving relationship.  
I clench my fists so tight my nails dig into my palms, and my phone makes a crunchy sound in my other hand.\

“I hate you!” I say in a low voice. Then I can’t stop the tears. But I don’t want Mom to see them so I stomp back up the stairs.  
I throw my phone across my room and it hits a pillow on my bed, then bounces off the bed and onto the carpet.

I stand in the middle of my room, literally shaking and just trying to breathe.  
My phone lights up with a message. I lean down to pick it up.   
It’s Amber.  
'I have to talk to you!'

I open Snapchat to see if Chris is on it. I at least want to say goodbye.  
At the top, where my last contact with Chris was, is a circle with a greyed out silhouette and the name ‘Chan’ beside it.   
I stare at it in disbelief. He’s closed his Snapchat account.   
I don’t have time to process this fully before I hear my door hinges creek.   
I don’t turn around. I know it's Mom and I don’t want to talk to her.

“I didn’t kick him out,” she says.  
“I don’t believe you,” I say under my breath.   
“Excuse me?” Mom sounds mad but I don’t care anymore.

“Here!” I shove my phone at her. “Take it, okay? I don’t care.”  
“You will care.” Mom takes the phone. “I never said you could have it back. You’re grounded.”  
“I was already grounded, so then there's no difference.”  
“Don’t talk back to me! Did you do your homework?”

I don’t answer. I don’t want her to know that I did do most of it this morning. She’ll think I did it because she always nags me to, but I just did it because I needed a distraction. She makes me so mad. I want to yell and tell her to get out of my room, but I’m frozen with anger.

“Did you eat anything today?” she asks.  
I don’t reply.  
Mom sighs. “I’ll make you a sandwich.”  
“I’m not hungry,” I lie. I’m starving but would rather starve to death than eat something she made me.  
Mom doesn’t answer and finally leaves.   
I close the door when she’s gone, wishing I could slam it.

I sit on my bed and stare at nothing for what seems like hours. My life was pretty boring even before COVID lockdown. But at least I went to school and had a change of scenery. I talked to people in my class. Then the lockdown came and my world became just this house, upstairs or downstairs, the kitchen or my room. I even started taking long baths, just to do something different. But then Chris came, and it was like he brought the world with him. He wasn’t just living here, he was a presence I could feel from two stories away, from up in my room. 

I can’t go back to how it was before, not now that I know what it’s like to be in love with someone, to want them to touch you, to want to spend time with them.   
When I'm not with Chris it just feels like “in-between time," time that I’m wishing would hurry up until we see each other again. Now my whole existence will be a forever 'in-between time.'   
I can’t believe he’s gone.   
Why would he erase Snapchat? He’s still on Instagram.   
Is it because of me? Did he block me?   
I guess I would too if someone’s mom was crazy and kicked me out of my living space.

I hear a ding from my computer and ignore it. It’s Facebook Messenger and the only person who messages me there is Mom. She’s probably asking me again if I’m hungry. I’m not even hungry anymore. The hunger pangs have been swallowed up by the much larger feeling of being devastated that Chris is gone.  
The dings come again and again.

That can’t be Mom, she doesn’t send a stream of messages like that.  
I get up, feeling groggy with crying, and turn on my computer screen.  
It’s Amber again.

'OMGosh I need to talk to you ASAP  
Did you see Chan’s Insta?  
Anyway, it’s important.   
He gave me something to give to you.  
He said no one else can see it. I have to give it directly to you.  
He said not to let your Mom see it.  
So I’m going to bring it to the campfire. Chan said you know about the fire.'

What? Chan got me something?  
The thought of going into that forest again is way too scary. Especially since Chan won't be around to save me this time if I almost kill myself again.  
I scramble onto my chair and start to type.

'I got lost last time I went there at night and almost walked off a cliff. Can you put it in my mailbox instead?'

Amber responds right away,  
'No, Chan said to give it directly to you. My sister and I can pick you up at the end of your street if you want to come to the fire.'

Why wouldn’t she just give me the letter at the end of the street, where Mom can’t see? Why is she insisting I go to the fire?   
Maybe Chris will be there and he told her he wants me to go?   
But he posted from the airport hours ago. 

I reply:  
'What time?'

'Eleven'

I shiver at the thought of the forest at 11PM. But it’s better than going earlier. Mom should be in bed by then at least and I have a better chance of sneaking out.

'Okay, I’ll be there.'


End file.
